I thought I was going to leave that short and sweet and be done with it and go to bed, but apparently I was wrong. I feel like such a freak here. I should feel natural, these are my people--but I feel like I'm 9 feet tall and everyone thinks I'm judging them for being short. And maybe I am. But it's not my fault I'm tall, and it's not my fault they are short, and just because I am tall doesn't make short better.
That was a damn stupid analogy. I really am quite tired. This is actually the one place where I usually don't feel freakily tall. I should think of something better to compare this to.
Blah blah. I'm hardly even making sense to myself. The bottom line is that I'm not comfortable here. This isn't home. Home is in Austin, with Mark and Chance. Home was with Mark and Erica on Belmont. Home is about me and the people I choose not, not about the people who birthed and raised me. And that's a strange thing. I feel...disrespectful, I guess, for saying it. And then that's weird, because I never liked this place anyway. I spend 17 years trying to get out, and now that I am out, I insisit on trying to feel like I belong here and am not just visiting when I come back.
I just don't get it.
I've been saying "I want my mom" for months, and now I am here and I don't know what to do with her.