It was early, for a second I forgot the horrible event that was taking place today. Our house in New York had been home for my whole life. It was all packed away in boxes,  this “home” was barren, stripped away of all sentimental value. Goodbyes that I wanted to listen to, but I didn’t want to hear, flooded my ears. I wanted to have some sort of final act of defiance, some type of resistance,  but that never took place.

On the long speechless drive to the airport, farewells echoed through my empty head making me want to cry. Finally we arrived at a big daunting building, bustling with people who didn’t know me or know what I was going through.  I looked up at the high ceilings of the airport, the vast emptiness made me feel insignificant. I felt the cold metal of my suitcase’s handle, and heard the inevitable squeak every other second.  No words were shared on this long dreadful walk to our gate, “When are we coming back?” I wanted to ask, but didn’t want to hear the answer.

I walked as slow as possible, absorbing the aroma, trying to remember this moment. My parents were leading me in the airport, miles ahead of me. I didn’t want to move on, leave, but I had no say.

We arrived at the terminal, I made every attempt to look disgusted, betrayed, and it made me want to cry. It was around noon now, and I now could fully understand my bearings and contemplate how this would effect me forever. Finally, I boarded the plane and could relax, but I felt that if I relaxed it would be a betrayal to my friends, that if I didn't even try to have a rebuttal I was leaving them behind. I was exhausted and finally gave up, gave in. I stared out the window, I didn’t want to forget what I was leaving.

Familiar land sifted through the window until it was all alien, and I was lost. I learned that no matter how much you don’t want something to happen the only person who you can rely on to stop it, is yourself.