and chooses the middle with a wink and a grin.
Oh how the wayward souls go
Tomorrow I’ll lock my front door for the first time, and the last time, in eleven years. My home has been figuratively and literally open to anyone who needed anything for over a decade, an era that ends right now.
This wasn’t just a home. It was family dinners and karaoke nights and pool parties and dad jokes and stripper drama and unconditional love and unwavering support. People lived here because it was safe, fun, and judgment-free. It was a refuge for my kind of people – the wayward ones. Those who chose their own paths, forged their own futures, and triumphed over harsh adversity.
I moved to this home newly divorced and terrified of being alone. I leave as someone who loves himself, who has grown and learned and become a much better person. The lessons over the last decades were hard ones, but I’m proud of who I’ve become. And as I witness each one of my chosen family go on to do amazing things, I’m even prouder of them.
Change has always been my enemy. It’s brought anxiety attacks, sleepless nights, and hours of abstractly calculating everything that could go wrong. But tomorrow, as I begin a trip with no end in sight, change will be my constant companion, and the thought of embracing it warmly terrifies me. No more routines, my brain says. No more familiarity, my social sense cries. Aha, but no more stagnation, either. No more complacency. No more doing the bare minimum.
I’m so excited.
What’s going to happen next?
I’m so terrified.
“My best friend killed herself last night,” I said. A few audience members gasped, but the rest held firm, aware that comedy can be dark, and there’s always a punchline. “I haven’t really processed it yet, so I thought why not share this deeply personal moment with a bunch of strangers who came out to be entertained.” There was an uneasy chuckle. “She was a rebel and very anti-establishment, though, so she waited until two days after National Suicide Prevention Week ended. I bet she laughed and said, ‘That’ll show them!’ when she wrote her note and took those pills, too.” 
It’s been five years since you left. The world has changed, but I think your perspective would be inspiring, filled with equal parts sarcasm, dark humor, and empathy. Would we have moved away and built our commune of creatives? I’d like to think so. Would you have joined TikTok and gotten millions of followers with your biting commentary on pop culture and elite meme skills? It seems likely. Would I love to be able to pick up the phone and call you, just to talk for hours about obscure facts about bats, scandalous sex stories, and a bar in Indonesia that serves drinks out of an elephant’s skull that we absolutely must visit? Without a doubt.
