When ever I see a plane I feel like I should be on it.

I've never been good at staying in one place for too long. I lived in the same house all my life and it didn't take all eighteen years to begin to feel locked in.

I find myself pacing when I sit in certain rooms too long.
I'll take showers just because it's some place different.
I hated school solely for the fact that I was literally trapped in a single building, and if I left I'd be punished.

Now I'm in the place I thought I always wanted to be. And after four months, I'm ready to leave again.

I left home four days after I graduated.

My original plan was to leave right after my graduation. Had it not been for the fourteen family members who came, I would have.

I didn't cry the morning I left. Everyone around me was crying, but I didn't. I felt guilty about that, and I still do.

I cry at children movies and I can't cry on the biggest move of my life?

But now I cry. I cry every time I think about biking. And about driving. And about waking up in the morning and seeing shadows on my wall of the trees in my backyard. I cry over the these minuscule details that didn't seem to matter all those years I told myself "I'm unhappy here."

I'm ready to go home. But I'm sure I won't stay there for long.