Leaving wasn’t supposed to be easier than staying, but that’s what it had come to. She didn’t belong here, she didn’t want to be here if she wasn’t wanted here and… that was about all she had left. She felt pathetic for staying as long as she had, even if love didn’t have pride. The absence of pride made her feel stupid.
The last thing she really felt like she could do was leave; it was her last option, the ‘momentum of last resort.’ (She could swear she’d seen that in a book but she couldn’t place it.) Leaving would save her and save whatever future they might possibly have. She’d started to feel impossibly alone and increasingly impotent and frustrated. There was no outlet, no one to turn to. It also wasn’t the first time she’d felt like that in her life and she fell back on the same coping mechanism.
Praying had led her to the campus at Columbia. In a way, praying had led her to Jason, the counselor who had pointed her to apply at Stanford (where he’d done his undergraduate work.) Praying had led her to the best conversation, the most support she’d had in weeks. Having a little faith had shown her the way, just when she thought all her faith was gone.
Faith was telling her to get on this flight. Jason had given her a phone number that had an apartment at the end. Her bags had stayed packed, she had the money to do it, her school application was in…
Leaving seemed easy considering she’d made all those arrangements without a word to Santana. Living her own life was easy and at this point, completely necessary.
It was hard to explain how it didn’t feel like giving up. She finally stopped trying, left Santana a simple ‘Come find me because I won’t give you up’, and left.
She didn’t tell anyone else she was going. This was just for her and all on faith— at least for now.