God, I can't stop writing. I'm overflowing over here. Happy scared thrilled excited so fucking homesick I can't breathe. Does life ever get easier? I always thought I was going to be better able to handle things when I got older, and it isn't, I'm just as childish, and everything is harder now. The injustice of everything that's happening nags at me and every day I just want to scream at the world, at the government, and sometimes at God. I rarely do that. I know I shouldn't. But it's so fucking hard. None of this is fair, and I just want to scream that to everybody, make them fix it, or fucking fix it myself, because it's NOT FAIR.
I want to give up. I'm not this tough. I'm not, I'm not, I'm NOT! Why can't life see that and LEAVE ME THE BLOODY FUCKING HELL ALONE????? I just want to curl up and forget it all.
On a side note, I think I'll have to hire someone to literally drag me kicking and screaming onto the plane to come back here because I don't know if I can do it myself.

I just don't know how to categorize myself.

Every time things get difficult, I want to run. Sometimes just a little. Occasionally a lot. When I was little I ran, almost. I walked out of my house with my brothers, announcing to my parents that we were never coming back. Jeffrey was crying as he said, but he had his stubborn face on. Those two would have followed me to their deaths. Seth even went farther than I did, because Jeffrey and I stopped at the porch, his you-can't-stop-me face melting as he ran back through the door and tackled my mom where she sat in her chair. I yelled at Seth to come back and then jumped on my mom's lap, crying and saying that I'd never run away again.

Funny thing is, I didn't. My dad ran out to get Seth, who was really quite intent on leaving and had made it to the edge of the road, hesitating. And no matter how goth and angsty and depressed I got during my teen years, and no matter how much I thought I hated my parents, and how badly I cut, I never ran away. I nearly killed myself, once on purpose, once because I just didn't realize at the time how far I was going, but I never ran.

I want to run now. You know those times when you know you're doing something wrong and everything good inside you is screaming? Well, everything is screaming right now, except I don't know if what I'm doing is wrong. I just know it's not good for me. But I don't know if that matters, if it means Teddy is okay. Isn't helping someone survive a good enough reason to do something you don't want? I always thought so. I still do. But it's getting more and more difficult. (Random fact - I say difficult instead of hard if I'm trying to be serious or have someone take me seriously.) I can't stop thinking about going home. I finally got my plane ticket to visit and I can't stop thinking about it. I dreamt about it last night again. (Blogger says "dreamt" is not a word, but trust me, it is. I read a lot. Look it up, Bloggerbitch.) I'm aching to go back - it physically hurts sometimes, and I've never been good at waiting - and it's going to take everything I have to get on the plane to come back here.

But going home for even a week is going to be amazing. I can't stop thinking about it.

But am I a runner or aren't I?

I can't... stop... MISSING HOME! It hurts too much.

Stupid title. Because it feels incomplete without a title but I'm too ornery to come up with one.

I want to go home. I miss everything so much. I'm not good at being here; all I do is miss my friends and my old life. I miss it at work and when I'm out with friends here and when I'm doing homework, and now, for the first time in my life, my thoughts influence my dreams, because I dream I'm home a lot, or about to go home.
It's no way to live.

I'm sitting in a coffee shop, writing. It feels familiar but at the same time, so strange, because I know the second I step outside I'll be in Colorado instead of Washington. I'm in this tiny boat of familiarity in a sea of homesickness. (heh, how's that for a cheesy metaphor?) But I might be going home soon. :)
Let Go - Frou Frou
This is my song of choice at the moment. It will probably always feel weird to me to be able to hear something when no one else can. I'm listening and watching everyone else; all these people full of life while I sit here stagnant.
Hear Me Out by the same group is also really good.
I used to sit in the Atlas and write on this blog, long, rambling posts about how wonderful and strange life was. I couldn't imagine that someday I might see those same crazy quirks as something that took me away from my home to a much less magical place.
Although, let's be honest, we can blame a lot of that on me. I left. I didn't need to. I didn't even want to. I did it for someone else, because I couldn't stomach the thought of letting anyone go through that alone. I don't know where the line is between "really nice" and "doormat", but I imagine I've crossed it.
Odd how unlike me that is.
Radio - He Is We
My "basically best" friend from home just sent me that, to show me what "girly" was. I miss James dreadfully, perhaps the most of all my friends. But not more than my little sister. :(
Starlight - Muse
A bit of a flashback, and also something to make me feel better, because this song, without fail, always makes me feel better. Not sure why. The first part is just so damn cheerful.
I'm about to give someone the address to this blog.
James, don't abuse it!

Hey. I'm here again. Did you forget me? I don't blame you. I may have forgotten me a little.
I've forgotten how I used to be when I was happy. I was listening to some music on one of my old lists, and it was like I was there again, except I was sad that I wasn't there anymore.