When I first went back to my house for Rosh Hashana last week, I noticed something strikingly different between what my house was and what it had been- my house was no longer my home. It was an odd sensation, but in two weeks, my whole sense of reality had suddenly flipped around. I calculated how many rides I had left on my ten trip- My last trip would be a train back to Columbia. I tried sleeping but couldn't stop shifting- I wasn't used to the bed that I had slept in just weeks before. Then, before I left my house, I told my parents "goodbye, I'll call you when I get home!"
What's different? All the junk in my old room is the same, I didn't remove any of the decorations or any of the stuff. I just sat on my bed and gazed around, and all I could think of was "this isn't me anymore. I don't belong here." After a day and a half with my family, I felt like I was getting "homesick-" I just wanted to be back with my friends in my dorm with my shitty food.
This is just an observation I guess. 2AM doesn't lend itself nicely to insightful blog posts- I rarely make any insight anymore, just a whole lotta observation.
Well anyway, it's good to be home, wherever it is.
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