There are certain things you can only realize when you’re home.
The memories you leave behind are gone forever. No matter how many pictures you took. No matter how many people you loved. No matter how much resentment you’ve carried from it since you left. It’s all gone.
I’ve forgotten things. I forgot all the things that I loved about home.
I left it all because I didn’t want to remember why my friendships didn’t work.
“You really do have high expectations.”
Clearly, I’ve gotten nowhere since then. I’ve spent years hating people. People who’ve moved on the moment I left their lives.
“Your personal statement actually really sucked. But that isn’t why you didn’t get into UW.”
My body has grown tired of my bitterness and harsh self-criticism.
“You didn’t get in because you didn’t want it that much.”
I can either die, or I keep leaving home. Either way, though, makes me a coward.
“She cared about you too. You just couldn’t see it, that’s all.”
It’s all gone. There are no questions. It shouldn’t follow me around anymore.
“You can move on from this. I know you can.”
I can’t sleep most nights.
I have no job.
I’m failing econ.
I can’t cry anywhere without having somebody see me.
My sleepless nights have been forcing me to agonize over my past actions. What I’ve done, what I shouldn’t have done, and what I should have done.
It’s so goddamn frustrating. It’s all done. Why is it still floating around me like a ghost?
I need to get away from here. This place is sucking the life out of me.
There is no life here.
