Going home, that's a frightening thought.  But actually being home, now there is fucking terror.  There was just something about walking in the front door that really freaked me out, way, way beyond belief.  It wasn't home for me anymore.  No attachments.  No memories for me.  Nothing.  No feeling whatsoever about the bathroom door.  About how when I was four, and me and my brother and older sister, we were having a squirt gun fight inside (I still don't know why we were possessed to do it inside, especially since it was nice out), and I was running into the bathroom and tripped and fell and ended up getting stitches in my knee.  I could go either way with a memory like that.  It doesn't really make me feel home, not at all really.  It just makes me want to avoid the bathroom, that's all.  And squirt guns.

And standing outside, smoking a cigarette, that used to be one of my favorite things to do at night.  Especially in the rain.  Tonight, well the rain is a pouring down.  But guess what, I just don't feel like getting wet.  I don't really feel like even smoking.  Because if I smoke, I'll just flick the butt of the cigarette in the lawn, and then the next day they will go and bitch at me for putting my butts in the lawn.  It really takes away from the whole peacefulness of the night smoking.  It just makes me want to be back in my apartment, laying naked on my couch, smoking a cigarette in my own peaceful, yet slightly dirty world; not having to worry about cigarette butts laying around, or about being naked.  I can just lay there, staring at the ceiling, thinking of nothing in particular, listening to other people turn there showers on and off, one after the other at one in the morning.

And the bed, is another thing.  I have my own little bed, that I can choose to sleep in.  Sometimes not by myself even.  But at home, I'm forced to sleep in this bed.  I can't even go sleep on the couch for a change of pace.  I can't even sleep with someone.  It's always me, by myself, and my dirty little thoughts.

And another thing, I can't listen to music at home at 3 in the morning if i want to.  Basically, because all of my stuff is down in Madison.  Sometimes it is just fun to listen to Alanis Morisette operas at three in the morning for fun.  I don't know really.

Or maybe, it's because my home is no longer where I travel to once a month or so, maybe it's just the place I sleep at nearly every night.

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