Its funny how things work. Its funny how you're gone and I'm happy, and you're back and I'm just alright. Maybe I was wrong everything I said to my therapist. Maybe this isn't the right place for me. But a new question poses; what is? I've yet to find a place where I'm 100% comfortable, happy, and loved. Maybe I'll need to make my own home for that. Maybe I'll need to move far away and rent an apartment, and furnish it myself. Find a new meaning to "home is where the heart is".
See, that saying is tricky because I'm the type of person to leave my heart everywhere. Its in the decorations of my room, my hamster, my smells, every stain on the sink and food that's bought for me. It's in my dog because all 5 of us picked him out. I'm in every decision that someone stops and thinks about because I've made some sort of impact on them. It's my heart. It's just the way I am, and the way I'm always going to be. This is not my home though. Neither was with my parents (I don't think). Theres no real way to tell.
I guess that apartment in Savannah will just be the test. I mean, I'm going there regardless, but maybe that will be my home. Maybe we'll (yes, WE'll) be comfortable there, more so than we've ever been before. Maybe it's just what I'm looking for. Some people spend their whole lives waiting to get out of high school and the bullshit of being a kid, so I'm praying to heaven that I'm one of those people, because I swear I can't live like this. I don't want to feel like this for all of my life. I just want to be fucking happy. I'm so close I can taste it.
By the way, I love you, Kara Marie Jones.
That apartment is calling our name :)
