Making lists, staying occupied.
I just don't want to be honest anymore because I don't like the way the truth sounds in my mouth.
I knew it would be like this, I've come home before, and I survived coming home before. I remember the staring at the photos and the crying and the sound of Justin's voice and the way it felt like nothing would ever be the same and my happiness was always going to be somewhere I wasn't from now on. I remember all that, and as I go through it now I'm trying to tell myself it's normal and to just not think about it or talk about it because this is what coming home is, and it will pass.
Culture shock. I'm trying not to think about the fact that in my mind it's still September, that the weather even says so, that I have no job or school or life and that I'm waking up from a coma without a clue where to go from here.
I try not to think about all that. But if I hold it in, is it going to stay in there forever?
No, it's just going to take a few days. This is what coming home is.
I know all that, but it hurts so much it hurts so much, and it's cold here. It doesn't feel as easy as I know it to be.