it's interesting how you think you understand the meaning of things, just from observing others and growing up and imagining.
but then you actually experience it, and suddenly that song you're listening to means something else. coming home means something else.
I've been gone two months, and this town has changed. my home has changed. it's no longer where I live. my mother is beginning to become all those other mothers whose children are gone, grown up and having their own kids. she isn't being so young anymore. her clothes are looking older. this house is looking and feeling older.
like the home i wanted to come back to isn't here, but it could be... if I came back.

I'm home for thanksgiving. I miss home. I miss the country. I don't want to go back to Oakville, back to that job, that apartment....
but my old room is different. it's a guest bedroom now, and thats it. it has a futon. it smells different, feels different.
I really don't want this yet.
want want want.
Maybe i'm not ready for this.
I'm going to end up back here (when? how soon?)
and I know that the only reason people are loving me now is because I'm not around anymore. if I come back, things will go back eventually. Gord will bicker (as usual), mom won't hug me as much. things like that. things I need....
I don't even know.
I want to stay here longer, another week at least. I don't want to go back there, I really don't. I feel so much safer here.
all those habits of mine were gone for a while in Oakville, but after two days here, I've got them back. I'm remembering what I used to do and how. what I watched, ate, who I talked to...
I'm not ready to be on my own yet....
I'm thinking of coming home. I like Oakville, being on my own and such is interesting, but it's a lot, to a point where I don't feel it. and when I go to bed realizing I have to go to work again in a store I don't know in a strange city with yuppies and students, I'm not sure I can handle it. too many times have i found myself in public on the brink of tears. too many times have I just wanted to give up, take a minute, pack my things back up, come home...
to a home that isn't mine anymore. life here is moving on without me, and it's painful to watch. I miss being comfortable like this, safe with my mom, in a familiar home with familiar people. I know I used to hate walking down the street and people recognizing me, and I still don't like it...
but it's home.
and I can't leave my home.

so maybe I'll work for a while at this place. I'll stick it through, and when I have enough money to pay my last month of rent, and whatever it is to move my things back... I will?
maybe...
it will be a while.
and it's terrible, because this house is small and such...
maybe I could get my old job back, and move into an apartment here in town instead.
yeah, maybe that would work better......

ugh.
I think about this a lot. and I hate to think I'm kind of abandoning cal like that. I love living with her, she's great to live with, but personally I'm too young for this, I hate to say. it's a bit of a jump for me.
especially when I don't know what I'm going to do with my life.

the only direction I have in my life is to the store to get groceries. beyond that, I'm lost, hopeless, completely out of the loop on everything, not even an idea anymore as to what to do with myself....

I hate feeling this way. like I'm rotting inside... I just don't want to go back there.