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I'm home. I've been home for three days and I still can't accept the fact that it's over. I don't want it to be over. I want to go back tomorrow and have things be exactly the way they were. My last few weeks there were incredible. I had more fun than I have ever had in my entire life. My purity test score dropped several points and I realized I am capable of just hanging out.
At lunch the day I left Sara and Brian were talking, and they said that of all the people they've corrupted this year I changed the most dramatically and they appreciate me the most. And Erin piped up and said they'd really changed me- "She went from hiding in her room to singing like a banshee with the door open, drinking alcohol, smoking pot..." And I just sat there smiling at them talking about me because they're right. I changed, and I like me better this way. I was so scared at the beginning of the year. I was terrified to make friends. And then I did and everything got so much better. And I did not want to leave. I procrastinated packing up until the very last day. And then I packed everything and set it out in the hall and even then I left my computer all set up until my dad got there. That way, it still looked like my room. My dad got stuck in traffic on the way there, and Erin and I cheered when we heard that, it meant one more hour until I had to leave. And then he got there, and we moved everything out, and while I was standing in my room waiting for Brian to check me out I had to fight with everything I had to keep from crying. If I had started crying then I would've been sobbing the whole way home. I didn't want everyone to know I was that upset. It was terrible, it really was. And then I got home, and my mom was so excited to see me, she had bought me legos and picked me flowers and baked strawberry shortcake. And that all made me feel worse, because I know she wanted me to be excited. I should be excited, I should miss this. But I'm not, and I don't. This doesn't feel like home anymore and realizing that made me feel so incredibly guilty. I tried to pretend for her, but I think she knew, and if she didn't then she does by now. She wants me to be her little girl still and I would absolutely love to be that for her but I'm just not. I'm a completely different person now than I was when I left in August. And no matter how much she wants me to, no matter how much I want to, I can't go back to being the person I was then. I think more than anything else she hates that there are things in my life she doesn't know about. There are stories I told my dad that she never heard because he came up on the weekends and she didn't. And I'll forget that, and mention something I think she should know and realize she doesn't know because I never told her. I censored my photo album so that I could show it to her, she'll probably never know that I have a picture of me and erin sitting on the couch laughing hysterically (someday, I plan on putting that picture in an album with the caption, "our first time stoned."), and one of me and erin and sara and tracy sitting on sara's bed, and sara's holding her bong, and there's a postcard of a stripper mixed in there with the back signed, "to Sarah, love Johnny Angel." There are major events in my life that my mom will never know about, and that's weird. My mom has always known even the things I tried to hide from her. She never reacted the way I wanted her too and she ignored a lot of things she probably shouldn't have ignored... but she always knew. Until now. And I can't decide how I feel about that. I have my own life now, almost completely separate from my parents' lives. And I think I like it that way. I'm getting a car, now. I'm paying my parents for my mom's car and she's getting a new one. And that means I can take off by myself during the day and they don't always have to know where I'm going. And next year, when I'm at school, I'll have the car with me. I could take off for the weekend in that car and they wouldn't know. I drank 6 times this semester. The first time I ever drank, I had a shot of vodka and a sip of hooch. The second time, I had one beer and a sip of bacardi, the third two zimas and a sip of vodka and orange juice, the fourth time I just had a sip of apple pucker, the fifth I had three jello shots some apple pucker, and the sixth I had four zimas. I only got drunk once, and it was the last time, and I only knew because I started dry heaving. I smoked pot twice, the first time was the same night I had the four zimas and it's by far the most fucked up I've ever been. The second time was my last night there and I really didn't feel anything. I did a lot of things I wouldn't dream of telling my parents... I skipped more classes than they could imagine, I took off in the middle of a blizzard with a girl I met on the internet and two of her friends to go to a coffee shop and a midnight movie on the other side of town. I saw a stripper at my RA's 21st birthday party. I danced in a cage in a bar with bunny ears on my head. I made fake IDs. I took off on a monday night to drink zima and watch movies with a bunch of people I barely knew, and I got back at 11:30 the next morning. for a year, I think I was almost normal. ~me Color scheme courtesy of Jeffie |