Approximately three years ago, I would have sawed off my right arm and leg to go back to the place I call my one true home. Approximately three years ago, I was so happy to go back for two months, I cried tears of joy.
But why, after three years, when I am given the chance to go back next year, and this time, for good, do I want to lock myself up in my room, curl up into a ball, and never come out? Why do I want to run away from it all, and stay?
I have heard news that might make me go home sometime next year, which concerns my education. I might not finish college in my school; I might have to go away. In any other circumstance, I would have gladly packed up my bags yesterday and left today. It’s scary how much I’ve changed.
But I have a hunch.
Maybe it’s because I have met this amazing group of people. Because I met people that have made me a thousand times happier than the six years I spent without them in my life. Maybe it’s because I can’t lose these people. Maybe it’s because with them, for once, I feel lighter than I ever have. Maybe my smile’s bigger when I’m with them, and I tend to forget the things that make me sad. You know who you are, all ten of you.
No matter what the reason is, I know that I cannot leave next year. I don’t want to leave them next year. Trust me, I’ll be doing everything in my power not to leave.
Approximately three years ago, I cried tears of joy. Now, I’m just crying.