Just when you thought you had escaped your past, catapulted into something new, and generally started making better for yourself...
eventually, you have to return home.
it should be a good thing, right? seeing all the old friends who never bothered to leave, revisiting old teachers to tell them you did absolutely nothing with the education they provided, or even seeing which of your favorite restaurants from your childhood have been torn down to make way for the newest vape shop.
it shouldn't feel like such a chore to laze around my parents three story house, spending however much time i want creating new things or reading, mostly uninterrupted. i shouldn't feel like a guilty worthless sack of spineless arthropods wiggling around in a human flesh sack. i shouldn't feel more comfortable sober dancing in the middle of a room full of strangers than sitting in the same room with either of my parents.
i don't mean to feel these things, but i do.
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