Not my own thank gods…oh well. Home again. Home? Can I actually call it home? No probably not, house where my parents live would be closer. Quitting the country, quitting this life that has built up around me like mould. Maybe now they won’t expect me to live with them when I get back…I hope not, I couldn’t bare it, I’d rather live in a tent for a while…so that better not go back with my aprents just in case a quick get away is needed.
I still can’t do it. I still can’t help but plan get aways from people I care about. Doesn’t mean I lvoe you any less just that I find myself to be claustrophic and claustrophobia inducing and running away from yourself is never really an option.