I dreamt last night that you had died. I found out because someone left a large, poorly scrawled note for me on a table full of notes. It was the note of a child, and I knew that it was because only a child would believe in fairy-tales enough to want me to know. I read the note and I cried, but I went off to find you so that I could say sorry one last time, but I woke before I could and there were tears on my face.
Mornings are always the hardest, because that is when I have to admit that the nightmares are mostly true, and I might never get to say I’m sorry again.
Junior Hope

Dumb Rant

I am trying to decide if I want to go straight to my parent’s house (adding an extra flight and about 6-7 hours to my already double digit travel schedule) or if I want to try to find a friend I can stay with once I reach the States and do the rest of traveling the next day. Honestly, I’d much rather just tack the hours on and have it be done even though it will mean over 20 hours of travel total (involving five cities, four-time zones, three flights, two layovers, and transport to-from airports). Realistically I’d probably get to my parents house at about 2am, and they wouldn’t even be there to pick me up (I’d have to take a van), but then I’d be there and it’d be done. So why do I hesitate? Because I still haven’t reconciled that “home” the place and “home” the people are two totally separate things.

Ugh, this is pretty much the story of my life, and I am getting really fed up with either having no idea what I want from my life, or on the rare occasions that I do know, not being able to have what I want. Essentially, I am just done being an adult.