C. Ya Later

Darci Ann Burdett
2 min readMay 30, 2019


There’s a pittie mix to cuddle at night.

The stores lavishly support my zero-waste lifestyle and plant-based whole foods diet.

There’s enough room under my bed for me to hide, but I have a feeling I won’t ever need to.

Previously I stayed somewhere bargaining to move the thermostat from 77 to 74 and now I wait for my roommate to leave and turn it from 68 to 73.

There’s this perfect spot in my bathroom where I can see all of my body in the mirror, and none of my face. My identity is my decision.

My days are spent sitting on the patio, doggo by side, working remotely on my passions.

Photo by Tabea Damm on Unsplash

I do not drive down streets that send my mind reeling with memories of decades past. I do not pass people and wish I could make them understand my heart. I owe no one. And while I know that was always the case, it’s wonderful to finally feel it, and live it.

Sometimes falling asleep with a blue glass stone in my hand, a reminder to be unapologetically me during this new journey. “This is your world, we’re just living in it.”

There exists no doubt in my mind that for once, I made the right call for myself, regardless of how anyone else felt about it and will not spend months feeling apologetic to the opponents of my decision for preserving my own potential.

Enough time has passed.



Darci Ann Burdett

Struggling millennial with a tendency to rant on delicate topics, with comma splices.