I'm back at home now. For Christmas. I find that each time I come home, it feels less and less like home. At least the house does. It just feels like the place where my mother lives her life. My stuff is just sortof around. Strangely, the dynamic between us is always the same. It's almost like, no matter what we were doing previously, we revert back to what we were the last time we were together. It's hard to explain.
I'm glad to be here, but I just feel so stuck. I'm different here. Maybe better, maybe worse. I guess everything just looks different from this side of the state.
As much as I love winter time, it's turbulent. Some of my best and worst memories have to do with the winter (I'm really into memories. They can make or break everything). It's hard when it comes around each year because I can feel it creeping in. It's a slow progression. There's generally not a lot I can do about it, but I'm going to do my best this year.
In addition, I'm a planner, and not knowing what I'm going to do next isn't helping. I want to be exciting and spontaneous and have adventures, but I'm bad at that. I guess I'll just have to wait and see what happens. Maybe I'll make the best of it, maybe I should just revel in the uncertainty of it all. Maybe that's the approach I'll take. At least it's a start.
Despite how hard this semester was, I was proud of how well I kept it together. I didn't stress too much the majority of the time and was able to have a blast. I actually think that I made some memories this smester that will have trumped the other years. Oh man. I love my friends. I love Jewell.
I've really been into Hafiz lately:
and I have become
Like two giant fat people
Living in a Tiny boat.
We Keep Bumping into each other and
I should stop now. This is a little too dramatic for me.