I don't like being home. Too many things come to mind. Such as past loves and lingering feelings. Thankfully, time is not a pool, but a river. It keeps on flowing, and things keep growing, and living and dying, passing, while I'm sighing.

I feel beautiful again for some reason. My family loves me, and needs me, while no-one seems to need me alone in my little dorm room, except for Mary, lovely Mary.

Which puts me in another frame of mind. Having groupies is absolutely one of the best feelings in the world. Chai tea hits the spot when it's chilly, and when it's not. The sliption of "smoking a bowl" in the midst, whips a warning at me, though, perhaps.

I wonder why my feelings and thoughts feel more smothered here than they do when I'm alone in my dorm room. Though I speak to few about my deepest thoughts and ideas, they are free, not controlled by the thoughts, moods, emotions, or whims of my guardian and sibling. I learn to speak in a different way and I like it. No more of this, petty arguing, but placid agreement. No forcing, even though that is my personality. Just letting go of things. The ability to disagree instead of smothering one another's opinions.

Chickens.