But home is nowhere

I went home for the first time since moving to Colorado. And it was weird. I didn’t want to leave. I guess that’s a story for another post because really I want to post what I wrote while I was there. I thought about changing up my whole blog completely and handwriting everything, scanning it, and then uploading it as an image because handwritten writings are a lost art. But, I’m kind of computer incompetent, impatient and also lazy so I’ll just have to stick with typing until my fingers fall off.

This writes more like a diary entry, but I’m ok with that. Let’s start with what I had written prior to the writing I was planning on posting from a couple months ago when I had just moved here.

“‘Let me talk to you for a minute.’
He pulled me aside.
Lights flashed everywhere like we were high up in the lawn of a show.
‘I just want you to know, that we were never anything.’
And then he disappeared.

A dream, but the way it feels…
Empty.
Small.

I saw this in my little book of writings and it got me thinking… so here’s the follow up.

I saw him. He was the same. As if we never even knew one another. As he said in my dream, we were never anything, and in that moment, I was stuck in my recurrent alternate universe nightmare.
But I wasn’t bothered.

I drank.
And I haven’t stopped drinking. Haven’t let myself be depressed; be vulnerable. But the truth is, I still feel small. I still need to drink to feel big. But in reality, the drinking makes me smaller. No one feels bad for an alcoholic. “Just don’t drink for a few days.”
But I can’t.
I need it.
I rely on it.
It’s the one thing that won’t ever leave me. I can trust it to protect me from the things I shouldn’t see; things I don’t want to feel.
I had run from my demons. Seeing that they had followed me, I ignored them because I didn’t want to get bad again. I wanted to start over. And so I felt ready to come home and see my demons in their physical form. The truth is though, I never battled my demons. They just have stayed with me like a devil on my shoulder.
I am the warm, calm little center of my world that I black out. When you’re stuck on a 3 hour plane ride with a screaming baby a row behind you, all you can do is surrender. Block it out. Why acknowledge pain when you can just as easily pretend it’s not there?
This is how I live my life.
This is why I’m in pain. 
Why I can never feel true joy.
Or love.
Or even truly hate.
I am a painted mask of apathy.

That got depressing really quick, didn’t it? Well, because I guess I expected to feel an overwhelming sense of home and maybe a little joy upon returning to my Shire. I saw Blob and I didn’t think it would bother me, but I guess it did when I look back on this writing from a few days ago. Mostly, returning back to the Shire only just proved to me that I don’t feel at home anywhere. Maybe I won’t ever feel at home anywhere. That’s okay. I never want to settle down. I just need to face my demons.

Why?

Wherever you go, there you are.

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