October 2011
"Home is where the heart is"
What does that even mean? Whatever it does, it doesn’t make me feel any better. Because I don’t feel like this is home. And I think that just proves to me why. Part of my heart is here, obviously, because Morgan is here. But past that…
There are a few friends here. People I absolutely love and would miss if I moved. But, oddly, they’re mostly people I’ve met on the internet. And I feel like, for every one person here, there are more people in other places that I want to see. Friends I haven’t seen in years, sisters who I miss getting to see on a regular basis, people from the internet who I haven’t ever actually met yet. If home is where the heart is, my home is in pieces across the damn continent- Arizona, Oregon, New York, Utah. No wonder I don’t feel at home here.
It is 3 pm on the last day of September. It is 109 degrees outside, according to the sign on the Walgreens across the street from me. Goddamn but I just want out of this state right now.
Dear economics:
I hate you. A lot.
