23 years of age. I'll never call this place my home, I'm just passing through.
Burn down the farm, nonviolently of course. Get rid of the possibility of comfort, so that the scary journey you want to take is your best choice.
"Before getting to my mother’s house, I would always think of her on the porch or even on the street, sweeping. She had a light way of sweeping, as if removing the dirt were not as important as moving the broom over the ground. Her way of sweeping was symbolic; so airy, so fragile, with a broom she tried to sweep away all the horrors, all the loneliness, all the misery that had accompanied her all her life."
Reinaldo Arenas, El palacio de las blanquisimas mofetas