Sunday, February 6, 2011

Maybe If I Write, I'll Feel Happier

I know I am happy, and I know it is a good thing that I am here.  But I just want to go home.  This feeling hits me most Sunday afternoons and evenings.  I know doing things helps me, but at this moment I want to curl up into a ball on my parent's bed and have them give me hugs and let me melt into that place that I once came from.  But that's impossible.

I had such a great day yesterday, and I got to talk with my parents today.  I wonder if there is something that I am not grateful for, or if I just need to snap myself out of the belief that I want to be home.

Maybe things will be better next year when I have another year of experience away from home behind my belt.  I can't wait for five weeks to go by so I can go home.  But will it be any better at home?  Or will I always crave for something more?  I wish I could know now, but I have a feeling that this knowledge comes with time.  At some point I'll understand.