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Like, I probably won’t sleep the rest of the week and most of next.

Well, okay, I will, but I’ll be super excited about next week.

Why am I excited?

Because in just over a week (11 days, to be precise), I WILL BE HOME.

I get to go home with L and her roomie M, who is apparently visiting relatives in the town where my grandma lives.

We’re leaving on Thursday.

Because there are no classes Friday.

And because they’re leaving after their final class of the day, which ends at likes 3:30. (Mine’s done by 2:15. Or earlier, depending on the day.)

And because I found someone with whom to switch work shifts.

She’s working that Thursday afternoon for me, and I’m working the next Thursday evening for her.

All right, so I’ll be working a double shift (my normal 3 to 6 and her 6 to 9).

And I’m not thrilled about working until 9.

But it’s worth it.

Because I get to be home.

Where I feel marginally more comfortable.

Where my favorite coworker ever is. We decided that we’re going to do something together next weekend. Not sure what yet, but something.

Where my parents are.

Where I get to play with a chinchilla.

Where I get to sit in the front row at church and not feel weird. (Well, okay, that’s slightly debatable.)

Where my awesome church family who give awesome hugs are.


The place I have missed for the last month.

It has crossed my mind that once I am there, I may not want to come back here.

But we’ll see.

I know I need to branch out.

But it’s been a month and I’m still not feeling how I thought I would.

I don’t entirely know how to explain how I thought I’d feel. But I don’t really feel it.

I guess I thought I’d have more friends and actually do stuff on weekends or something.

So far, nothing.

Church once.

Other than that, it’s been sitting around watching movies and doing homework and feeling disconnected.

And I don’t like that.

I mean, that’s how I felt for six years before coming here.

I guess I thought I would stop feeling that way after coming here.

But so far I haven’t and that bothers me.


But so anyway I’m incredibly excited to go home and I can’t wait and I want to pet the chinchilla and hug all my favorite church people and now I’m crying and I need to stop typing.

Oh and it’s my dad’s birthday next week and I need to get him a card or something. But really, can we call my coming home for the weekend his present? 😛