Okay, it's official.
I hate everything that being at home means. I thought that it was just a slight feeling, because that's all it was in California. But when I came home? Everything came crashing down around me. I thought that the break from school would rejuvenate me and make me appreciate both home and school life more, but I was completely wrong. I should have known from the moment I started spilling tears in the airport, but apparently that was too large of a realization for me to make. I guess I always thought that I should want to go back, because all of my friends at school wanted to go back, and all my friends at home wanted to see me. I thought I should feel some obligation to reminisce about the people and the place that I spent eighteen years of my life with.
Turns out that obligatory feelings are not at all valid, especially to me in this situation. I feel like a caged animal in this hellhole that's supposed to be my home. My family was visiting for a while, meaning there were constantly seven people in my house, with two satellite family friends always there that brought the total to nine. It was utterly stifling. I didn't even have the solitude of my room, and I was trying to see everyone that still wanted to see me. This was stressful and oddly emptying. It also manifested in a few things.
I want to get back to California more than ever. I want my friends there, my life there, my mentality there.
My mother is the bane of my existence at this point. She doesn't understand me, and because of that I can be unfair to her, I know that. But it's really hard when I'm in such a bad mood all the time that I'm home.
I think that my locality caused me to be unhappy for so many years. I can't stand it now, after being happy for so long, and I can't imagine how I lasted for so long in it without a break.
I have no idea what I'm going to show my friends from California when they come here. I have next to nothing here that makes me happy, and so how I can show them things here that are supposed to enrich their lives is utterly beyond me.
I need to move on mentally. Everything here is just dragging me down and I don't know how much longer I can deal with the psychological weight of the past on me. I was able to cast it off while at college because I was in a new setting. But every time I speak to someone here, I'm reminded of the fact that I left everything behind here for a reason. Because all the same things that I don't want keep being brought up. Every. Fucking. Conversation. I need to get out of here, and I mean for good. I can't have some ghosts of my past wandering around every single time I come home. I can't do it. I'm trapped here and I wouldn't be complaining except for the fact that I know so, so much better.
I need to truly and genuinely thank every single person that got me out of this place. Three months ago, I didn't know how large of thanks they truly deserved, and so I couldn't adequately thank them. But I can now, because I went away and I realized that I am never coming back.
My dad's thankful for the time that he's spending with me, and is handling the whole situation with poise and grace. My mom, on the other hand, is trying to buy my love. Which is so sad. My sister is spending all the time with me that she can, but she's grateful to have me home and she's also independent. My family friend who's like my sister is simply as desperate for attention as she always was, no shock there.
I just want to be home. To my real home. In California. Where there's potential for me in every respect of my life. Love, academia, friendships, future potential, I can't end the list. Take me back to Berkeley.
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