I always make the choices which I feel will make me happiest. The only problem is that I can’t see into the future and see what will make me happiest.
Liars do not make me happy. So much regret. I want to take it all back. I wish I could.
Being home.
I didn’t feel like I was at home until I was at his house and with him. I guess its because its the only thing still consistent about my life. All my other relationships are strained by distance except for that one.
Walking into my own bedroom feels strange. The walls are bare. No Air Force flag, no Colors, nothing. My bed itself is rather uncomfortable, I found myself waking up through the night constantly– it felt far too large to not have someone next to me. I think that’s one of the reasons I tend to move to my sister’s room at night. The floor always looks like it been freshly vacuumed but it has really been weeks. (My mother keeps the door shut while I’m not around.) It’s just very strange.
Looking into my closet makes me worry though. I have so many more things since I came to college, not just clothes but some of everything. I think its one of the only reasons I won’t like being at home when I do go back from longer breaks. Having all my stuff in one place. Bleh.
I love being able to leave my room and have a whole house full of different places to go. Here, if I don’t feel like going outside, my choices are other dorm rooms or the lounge. And even then, many of my friends live elsewhere so its hard to avoid the dreaded cold. There is no beautiful yard to admire while getting lost in thought on a swing. Just the clank of a train as it goes by is here to rattle my brain. I would trade being able to go walk into my friend’s room for being able to walk into my grandparent’s room instantly. I feel like I’m missing out on so many little family moments. (Interestingly enough, they are very rare, even when I am home so I’m not truly missing much.)
On a side note: My parents seem to be much more lenient than they once were, each time I go home I’m allowed to stay out until 12 or 1 if I have a good arguable reason. That sounds like nothing, but it would have been unheard of in the past. I suspect they allow me to get away with such things because they want me to be happy. They want me to keep coming back to this place and calling it home.
The diary. November 1, 2011
When I was very young, I had terrible luck with best friends. They always seemed to move away just after we got very close. Of course, those relationships were always very new and didn’t last when distance was introduced. For this reason I began writing a diary. Not a journal, a diary. I wrote in it with every intention of giving it to my final best friend, a person who I thought would never leave me. Slowly though after a few weeks of writing in it, I decided that the idea was very silly and if I recall correctly, I got rid of it.
I find it interesting that my method of personal writing was established when I was very young–I’ve always been a letter writer.To this day, I find myself writing letters to people. Often, which I never give them.
Once upon a time.
A girl was left by her best friend when she moved to Canada. She was comforted by her friend who was leaving– they agreed that would talk on the phone every day and nothing would change. When the girl called her friend a week after she had left, everything had changed. There was no longer that best friend connection. That bond that had existed over the last 3 years was no more. It had vanished instantly it seemed.
This sort of thing happens all the time, it just seems that people are a much less aware when it happens slowly. Not until looking around and being startled by the emptiness does it really hit people.
TeddyGrams 