please call me only if you are coming home
Fuck it, I’m gonna write for leisure.
So you’re more than welcome to press back or head to the FML blog or something, because you’re about to head into a few hundred words, to be exact, of nothing but the occurrences of my mind, which should be noted are going to random as hell.
Still want to stick around? Well I must commend you.
Let’s get started.
My semester is almost over, and I’ve learned so damn much.
Not enough, but still a lot.
I’ve actually gotten to experience what real tests are like, what learning a completely new language feels like, what missing your family is all about, and what being alone and lonely really means.
I know I’m not alone, but sometimes you can’t help but feel apathetic about it when all you have is an obnoxious roommate who plays world of warcraft on his surround system until three in the morning when you want to study for a test the next day, you can’t help but feel that way when you take walks in the beautiful scenery that is Incarnate Word and know you have nowhere to go, no one to see.
Sure, it’s beautiful. Sure, it’s great to have alone time.
But my grandfather once told me that anything in excess can and will be harmful.
And, to my disgrace, that man is never wrong.
I have learned that I underestimated many people, especially my family, in my years in Brownsville.
My only wish is that things would be different.
I wish that my entire time in Brownsville could be like the first few seconds, where disagreements disappear, where all that matters is that we’re safely reunited one more time, that our eyes get to meet and our hearts embrace, where everyone is utterly and genuinely happy to see each other, with no faux smiles, attitudes or intentions, just genuine love, happiness and best wishes.
It’s just that, when things are in smaller doses, really, everything is bigger. Every action, gesture and word is magnified one hundred fold; everything is scrutinized and takes upon a much larger meaning, because there’s less of it.
This is can be a two sided blade, for the happiness is two times as great, but if there are any negative brush ups in the way, they are two times as hurtful, two times as grave.
My wish is that I could, for once, be happy with my family, that for once, things would be okay and not in the constant limbo in which our overall happiness seems to be at all times.
But that’s a useless wish and I know it, and it’s okay. They’re my family, and I love them rain, sleet, snow or sunshine. And I’ve come to realize it now that I live some two hundred and seventy odd miles away.
But no matter what, that split second of happiness in my heart, that joyful tear in my father’s eye, those loving uninterested embraces from my three siblings and the feel of being at home keep the homecoming flame in my heart alive.
“My heart is beating from me, I am standing all alone. Please call me only if you are coming home. Waste another year flies by, waste a night or two; you thought me how to live.”
So you’re more than welcome to press back or head to the FML blog or something, because you’re about to head into a few hundred words, to be exact, of nothing but the occurrences of my mind, which should be noted are going to random as hell.
Still want to stick around? Well I must commend you.
Let’s get started.
My semester is almost over, and I’ve learned so damn much.
Not enough, but still a lot.
I’ve actually gotten to experience what real tests are like, what learning a completely new language feels like, what missing your family is all about, and what being alone and lonely really means.
I know I’m not alone, but sometimes you can’t help but feel apathetic about it when all you have is an obnoxious roommate who plays world of warcraft on his surround system until three in the morning when you want to study for a test the next day, you can’t help but feel that way when you take walks in the beautiful scenery that is Incarnate Word and know you have nowhere to go, no one to see.
Sure, it’s beautiful. Sure, it’s great to have alone time.
But my grandfather once told me that anything in excess can and will be harmful.
And, to my disgrace, that man is never wrong.
I have learned that I underestimated many people, especially my family, in my years in Brownsville.
My only wish is that things would be different.
I wish that my entire time in Brownsville could be like the first few seconds, where disagreements disappear, where all that matters is that we’re safely reunited one more time, that our eyes get to meet and our hearts embrace, where everyone is utterly and genuinely happy to see each other, with no faux smiles, attitudes or intentions, just genuine love, happiness and best wishes.
It’s just that, when things are in smaller doses, really, everything is bigger. Every action, gesture and word is magnified one hundred fold; everything is scrutinized and takes upon a much larger meaning, because there’s less of it.
This is can be a two sided blade, for the happiness is two times as great, but if there are any negative brush ups in the way, they are two times as hurtful, two times as grave.
My wish is that I could, for once, be happy with my family, that for once, things would be okay and not in the constant limbo in which our overall happiness seems to be at all times.
But that’s a useless wish and I know it, and it’s okay. They’re my family, and I love them rain, sleet, snow or sunshine. And I’ve come to realize it now that I live some two hundred and seventy odd miles away.
But no matter what, that split second of happiness in my heart, that joyful tear in my father’s eye, those loving uninterested embraces from my three siblings and the feel of being at home keep the homecoming flame in my heart alive.
“My heart is beating from me, I am standing all alone. Please call me only if you are coming home. Waste another year flies by, waste a night or two; you thought me how to live.”