I came home for the first time this weekend. It was a weird feeling. Somehow I thought everything would be normal like I never left. It wasn't. It felt foreign and weird; life kept moving and changing while I was gone. My room felt foreign and empty. The whole weekend had a different and weird feeling. I am a visitor in my own home.
The more I think about it the more I realize that it will always be this way. I will never truly live here again. Things will never be the same as they were. I won't go to school, come home and do homework at the kitchen counter while my mom cooks. I won't eat in the dinning room table with everyone. When I do I will be a visitor and I'm not sure it will ever feel normal again.
It was really good to come back though. It was good to see old friends and rest for awhile from the business of school. It was good to not eat in a cafeteria. I would come home for a vacation anytime.
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