I can't really say I've been happy since I've been home. I flip back through the time between my arrival from France and now a lot. There are only a few times that I have been genuinely happy, and the times are days between. I guess I shouldn't expect to be happy every day of my life, even though that would be really nice. I'm just kind of dead feeling. I'm upset that home wasn't all it was cracked up to be, I'm upset that some things are the way they are, and I'm upset that people are the way they are. That's a lot to be upset about, isn't it? Upset that things just can't and won't live up to expectations. I didn't realize how much I'd been making excuses for what's around me. For me, it really does suck here. Remember when I thought about this a year ago, right before I was about to go away to France? Yeah, well. Here I am again. The novelty of home has worn off right along with my temporary optimism.
Don't get me wrong. I love my home in my own way, I love my good friends dearly. I love my mother so so so much. I love quite a few things about my little world. But there are a lot of things that I don't like. And I'm ready to let them go again and move on. I can only take this in small doses, and I'd say summer was a heaping spoon full. I know I'm ready to go because the shit-hole, heart gripping, icy blanket, drowning feeling is no longer occasional. It is now almost constant. I'm back in a box after wide open space.
Isn't it weird how much a place can weigh you down? Wouldn't you think that your home would boost you up and fill you to the brim? Don't you think that you should feel content and reluctant to leave the place that raised you? Well instead of feeling whole hearted and full of happy things, I feel sick and oppressed. I am no longer nurtured or inspired by this place. I am no longer gazing upon my home with affection. I'm ready to go.
I told my mom this today after another disappointing day. "Dani," she said in response, "don't go before your time." Is my time not now? To be fair, most of the people that matter to me are packing up right along side me to live in New York. What else is going to be left if I leave right now? Empty "I miss you" texts, overpriced but delicious mexican food, my cat, and the beach. Those are things that I can live without... I did it once, and I'll do it a thousand more times. (But this time the cat's coming with me.)
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