I hate leaving this place

The last night is always the worst.

I just said goodbye to Ptarckas, who I hung out with all afternoon. He did come over briefly and help me pack up some stuff, because my mom decided to tell me TODAY that they are in a bit of a rush and so would I mind just packing up all my clothes? like. Mom. You couldn't have let me know about this earlier? Even another day's notice would have been better. I spent Thursday morning READING. All I can say is that I've cleaned off my desk and all its drawers, my dresser and all but one of its drawers, my bedframe (drawers and shelves) entirely, and my sidetable, and my drawer in the bathroom. This leaves primarily books and dishes and cleaning for tomorrow, but my parents are bringing up most of the boxes to put stuff in so that kind of throws a wrench in things.

The worst part, but the part I knew I should just do for practical purposes, was taking down my calendar and photos. The walls are so empty now. It feels like I am officially moving out. It's bizarre to take apart this room that I had so carefully constructed for myself, this little home I built and lived in for most of the past 8 months.

I like it here. I like that my parents don't know about everything I eat and do, I like that they don't know when I go out or stay in unless I choose to tell them. I like that they don't ask how often I see Ptarckas anymore (and I especially liked that they've stopped asking what we do when we hang out).

I also like school. I do, really. I mean, yeah, sometimes homework and assignments are annoying and midterms and finals suck but I like classes, I like learning this stuff. It's so great that I don't have to take any more math or english or take more than one arts course. I can finally immerse myself in things I am actually interested in. It's the best.

I just feel so free when I am here. I'm in the middle of the city, I know how public transportation works here, I live close to my school and the train so I can go see other friends. I'm surrounded by people my own age going through similar life experiences. I love everything about living here so, so much.

I feel bad about that. I mean, it is nice to be home sometimes. There's home food, and my bed is comfy. But my room is also packed full of crap from my childhood, and I don't want to know how evolved the dust bunnies under my bed have become. I have no place for anything at home anymore, everything is just... junk, and sentimental junk. I could try a spring cleaning, but that never seems to last, and it's so much work, and I already have to fill out all these forms for my actual job to accept a scholarship and email my supervisor about when I start and UGH. I mean, that is pretty low key- sending emails! Maybe going to talk to my supervisor once or twice! I can still technically sleep in and eat breakfast at noon... alone... with the dog... who will cry and wake me up long before I want to anyway.

I love my parents, I do. I love being home for things like Christmas and Thanksgiving and February break and Easter (well, technically I haven't been home for Easter yet but it should happen eventually). I love getting to see my little sister again. I miss all my friends at home. I miss driving. Home is home, it's where I grew up. It's familiar and safe. Also it feels a hell of a lot smaller compared to where I am now. There's nothing wrong with going home. But moving back home for four months is very different.

I know my parents miss me. I know they like having me back at home. I don't hate being there. But I'm starting to prefer being here, and I feel horribly guilty about that. Here, I feel more independent (but trust me, I am anything but. Just trust me). At home, I feel like I'm 16 again and not allowed to leave the house after it gets dark... and where would I even go? I go out here, sometimes rarely. I never, ever went out at home. I don't have any place to go.

Something about being at home feels a little stifling when it's for this long, especially when I have to pack up a life I love so much here to go back. I'm sure that's fully normal. And I'm not saying I want to be adult, because I have no idea how to do that and, let's be honest, I'm going to be terrible at it when I have to actually try. I just like the setup I have here. I like how it works. I like my life up here, a lot. I was so worried about it before I left, and it turned out so well. I like school, I like the people who live here, the food's pretty decent, I like the location, I like the building, I like that I never ever have to help unload 20 bags of groceries into a pantry that is literally already full. I like that there is always room in the fucking fridge.

I dunno. I think being at home just stresses me out because of the sheer amount of stuff not only in my room, but in that house. Lately I can't stop thinking about how awful it is going to be to try and go through that house, whenever that has to be done. It's not even a house anymore, it's a home. It's full of home stuff, like several thousand books and old dance costumes and random old toys and god knows what else.

I just don't want to leave. I'm gonna miss Ptarckas and Carina like crazy. I'm gonna miss the city and school. I'm gonna miss the dining room.

I'll survive, but for this weekend, everything is just kind of bittersweet.

yer pal,
swegan