By the title of this post, I think it is pretty clear that I am not ready to be home. I am not ready to return to the every day mundane routine that is my life. I am not ready to return to work and re-encounter everything I left behind for the last five days. I am not ready to see people that I do and do not want to see because at this present moment in time, I would like to see no one. I want my days to be endless. To consist of long nights, reading alone in bed, snuggled with my dogs, where the rest of the world is of little concern to me. Somehow, everything would be magically taken care of and responsibilities would be non-existent. I am convinced that it is for this reason that I have taken little and time effort to put into my studies, because I am not ready to accept reality. I am just not ready to be home.
Where can I escape to? Where can I go where all my worries will dissipate? Will my dreams accomplish this? Will sleep free me from reality? No, in a way I feel that my day to day worries and concerns become amplified in my sleep, so really there is no way to escape them. Life is what it is and there is very little I can do about it. Shit.
I have a savings. Can I disappear for awhile? Tell no one of my travels and just buy a plane ticket and go. Do people do that? Would I have enough strength and bravery to do such a bold thing?
Maybe all the people in my life causing me stress will read this and just decide that their pestering and naive comments should just go away. I fail in this moment to take any responsibility for my current state of suffering. In this moment I believe it to be easier to ignore my role in anything. Denial will not cure the struggles at hand, but for the moment it is soothing.
My bed is calling is my name, but so are my textbooks and various other duties. Maybe a wise investment of my savings would just be to hire a maid, that way there are a few less things on my to-do list. I always focus better in a clean space. At least right now my floor is visible. I guess I show some signs of improvement.
This dreary weather is drab and depressing. Of course I can not muster any motivation when all I want to do is turn off the lights and listen to the rain. This is an activity of course that requires company. Silence is bliss but even silence with a companion is more blissful. I hate valentine's day.
It was more apparent in high school, when all the sweet hearts would exchange cards, balloons, and flowers. At least this year I am not subject to such non-sense. If someone really loves you then they will tell you whenever and however they so choose, not because a day on the calender says so. That is how I feel about it anyway. Somehow though this stupid day still manages to make all the single people in the world to feel pitiful. Girls go out with girls as a sign of empowerment. There should be no need for this because this holiday should be non-existent. Another reason I am not enjoying my return home, the men in my life. All of them just come flooding back in, not to make it sound like there is an ocean of them out there in the first place. Maybe a small pond, not an ocean. My interaction with the opposite sex today? A telephone argument, of course. That is how I spend my v-day, arguing on the phone with someone who I still have feelings for, but shouldn't, about how his personal life is no longer any of my business and he wishes I did not feel the need to be jealous. Great. That is how I would spend my valentine's day.
So here I am, home. Home is where all the shit and normalcy of life returns and burdens me. Hopefully tomorrow will show more promise. At least it won't be valentine's day.
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