TeddyGrams

The Secrets You Tell Your Teddybear.

Being home. November 2, 2011

Filed under: Uncategorized — teddygrams @ 12:46 am
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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.

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