Anyone who's spoken to me lately knows that all I've been able to think about is coming back home for the holidays. It's the only thing that's gotten me through the last few weeks, especially with work pushing me closer and closer to the point of fuck it. I've been relying on this trip as a sort of recharge. But now that I'm here, I think I'm realizing that it's not going to be that easy.
It's true that going home makes us revert back to our old selves. Old habits and desires. Even feelings for old crushes. So far I've had no desire other than to act like a lazy child. And it's nice, to be honest. But there's something else there. The unnerving feeling that it's all just a facade. Things aren't really this good. They never have been. This is a problem I've always had with vacations; the knowing that it's all going to end very soon.
And the cold hard truth of the matter is that I do have to go back. No matter how much I may think I want to stay. No matter how much I think I'll be happier back here in the place where I was never really happy before. This isn't where I belong, and I cannot be allowed to forget that. No matter how much I wish I could.
Oh yeah, MERRY CHRISTMAS!
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