So I've just finished getting "home" and unpacking. I use home with quotation marks because it's strange. My parents moved while I was away, again, and for the second time in two years they've changed where my physical home is without me even being aware of where/when/etc. And it somehow doesn't actually phase me anymore, it hasn't for a while.
Part of it has to do with being a college student. Every four months your entire life is upended and all your routines change and in some cases even where you live. Time turns into a strange thing then and you stop measuring time in months or years and you start viewing time as "Semesters" where summer is technically it's own semester and the winter is just an intermission between two semesters. Because of that constant change I find that I can just as easily feel comfortable and at home in a hotel, in a stranger's room, or whatever's supposed to be my home.
But I guess part of it is also the fact that I haven't felt like any place is home in years. Long before college was even on the horizon. I just haven't registered any place as being a place where I personally have any ties to. If I close my eyes and think of home, I think of a house where I grew up in, and that's it. I don't have a home anymore, I don't think. It's not a particularly depressing thought to me, not anymore, it's just a fact of life. I stand here in this completely alien room and feel just as comfortable as I did in my old one, and just as comfortable as I feel in a dorm, and just as comfortable as I felt in a hotel. Idk.
Also, today officially marks 90 days of sobriety. Kinda cool huh?
No comments:
Post a Comment