Dear friends,
To say that life has been a bit crazy would be an understatement. I am happy to say that I have lasted now seven months on my own. It hasn't been a completely happy seven months though. I have finally unpacked the last of my boxes and actually gotten rid of the evidence of my move. It is a bitter-sweet moment. As happy as I am to say that this new place is my house, I feel as though I can't call it home. I am not sure where home is.
Home used to be where my parents were, but somewhere along the way, that stopped. My roommate has gone out of her way to make me feel at home in the house, but I'm not sure that it can be fixed that easy.
I've always heard that saying "home is where the heart is." Where is my home, if my heart is constantly breaking?
I knew that this adult thing wouldn't be easy. Nothing in life ever is, but I didn't expect to feel so alone. I remember being a teenager and wishing to be older because older people always have it figured out. My poor teenage heart.
I know that I am emotional. It worries me that I won't feel "at home" until I feel an emotional attachment.
For now, I will sit alone, uncomfortable, and waiting for life to get easier.
I won't hold my breath.
