So my last night in my house has been a quite one.
Everyone is out conducting their own lives while I pack mine up ( I smell a ballad coming on)
I could have had my room completely packed. But I don’t.
It’s hard. I am walking around the place where to be honest, and not sound ridiculously dramatic, that I felt home though I have lived many places.
My house that I am unfortunately moving back to is full of close minded people who don’t accept me for who I am. I have always been trying to get away, to the point of trying to move to New York city.
Pembroke had a lot of people who loved me, but I didn’t fit and the man that brought me there died.
Norfolk was close but it was still Justin’s place with Justin’s friends. And they grew to be mine (sort of.) but I still felt like I was almost invading.
I moved back and into Pine Street, and then promptly back out to the apartment, which was again Justin’s.
I came back to Pine Street, licking my wounds from the break-up and I was planning on moving out. I packed all of my stuff and was looking for places. Then Stevie wanted my room downstairs and so I moved all of my stuff up. I kept looking and couldn’t find anything that worked, because first off I was trying to move in to a place with Landon, who I was at the time fucking, so that didn’t work.
I then decided, what the hell, I will just sign the lease for another year, and if something wonderful turns up, I will sublet.
And then I had one of the best summers of my life. Tremendously confusing. Very emotional. Very painful. And I learned more about myself then I had ever really dreamed of knowing.
It was that emotion, that pain, that forced me to grow into something.
Stevie taught me a lot.
I was telling Justin one of my best memories of Pine Street last night:
I had just broken up with Justin and I was a wreck. I spent the first four days after our break up in my room, only leaving to get water and use the bathroom. I spent it watching our movies, holding Pooh, and just crying. On the fourth day, it was pouring down rain outside and I guess Stevie got sick of it. She ran into my room, grabbed my hand, and pulled me outside. We were soaked immediately by stepping outside. She pulled me in the middle of the street, and yelled “RUN!”.
I looked at her like she was completely insane, and the realized I didn’t give a fuck.
We ran all the way down the street, full sprint until we hit the dead end, where has a little grass field thing. We flopped down on the grass, heaving. I thought my lungs were going to explode. But for the first time in probably 3 weeks, I felt completely and utterly alive.
One of my best memories in my life thus far is heaving in the mud next to Stevie, heaving and laughing and crying all at the same time.
The rest of the summer was full of drunken nights, sex-capades, and illegal drug use. I know who I am now, or at least I have a much better grip on it.
I am going to miss all of it: getting stoned off my ass with Ariel and watching Colbert re-runs. Getting skied up with Stevie and walking down by the river with Cash. Movie nights in PJs with ice cream. Crying over the loves of our lives with Ryan, realizing that no one was gonna be just like them and kicking ourselves for finding them so damn early and not drinking Blue Moon because it hurt too bad (Justin and Maria’s favs). Trying shrooms and realizing that god is dead, and that humans really suck at being together.
It was amazing.
And now I am packing it all up, and leaving this place. I never thought that I would ever feel this way about some where.
I guess I’d never been home before.
