Home Again.

I need to wash all of my clothes, fold them up in my drawers, and clean my room. I can't seem to get around to it, though.

Finishing up my last final was an incredible feeling. Amazing. But packing up to come home was really strange. I was sitting in the middle of my floor, eating leftover Chinese food and watching a movie with my closet, drawers, and under the bed emptied out around me. I realized that half of my stuff would be in my dorm, and half would be at home. I couldn't bring back my posters and decorations - it just wasn't practical. But I knew that my naked room at home would feel unfriendly. And I realized that I couldn't run next door whenever I needed a break or a good laugh or someone to watch a movie with. I realized that I wouldn't be in the newsroom for an entire month.

I actually started to miss it. And now I'm home, with half of my stuff still in the totes I packed it in. It seems like every time I settle into someplace, it all goes back into the box, which goes back into the trunk of the car, which goes back to whatever city I'm not in. I'm tired of having my makeup in a little travel bag, because it's just easier that way. I don't like living with one foot in Rochester and one foot in Erie. I like home best, I have the most of my life here. But every time I come home to it, it feels like I'm leaving a little bit more behind.

I want everything to be in one place again. I want all of my things in one building, I want all of the people I like and love to be within a twenty-minute radius. I wish that this feeling of constantly missing something, of life constantly being incomplete, to go away. It's an impossible, juvenile wish, but that is what I want.