Svefn-g-englar

Being home in bed right now makes me feel the same dead end, going nowhere, boring life nostalgia that made me leave this place. I don’t know if it’s because I’m listening to depressing music or what, but I feel it and it’s scaring me.

My dad was talking about selling my car. I think he very well should. I mean it’s just sitting around depreciating when it could be sold and the money could be sitting around earning intrest.

The back of my throat is still a bed of infection, which must make a certain someone really happy since he gets to kiss me while I’m here. Should I be concerned that it’s been like this for a week and is not getting better? Am I going to die?

The One Thing I Miss The Most

On Saturday night I was back in my hometown and I fell asleep next to the boy. I woke up and I was thinking:

“I miss this, I miss this so much and I will not get to have this for a very, very long time. Tomorrow I will be going back to S.F. and away from everything I grew up with, everyone I grew up loving.”

I didn’t want to leave. I didn’t want to give up the comfortable, familiar love of home. Home is so much more than just a word for me, it’s my world. Like everything that is not home is a vacation, even if I move it will not be “home”. Like now, where I am right now, this is not home.

I miss Daniel most of all, out of everything. Being in my room, it didn’t even feel like my room so much. I mean it felt like my house which is home, but I could bear to leave, but Daniel’s bedroom…I wanted to stay there forever