Home

Well, Albuquerque home at least. I'm back a day later than originally intended because of too much snow and road closures. In New Mexico. Weird, I know. The weird thing about being in my room is how much it doesn't feel like my room anymore. Most things here aren't the same as they were when I lived here. I've taken all the posters from here. While there are a few things left on the walls they are mostly bare. Most of my furniture is still here, but not all of it. I look around the room and remember how it used to be my sanctuary. It was the one place I could truly escape. It was the one place I could truly call my own, where nothing could hurt me. I look around and I know now that it is just a place. Old memories linger in the air. I've had this room for eight years now. That is eight years of memories hanging. So much has happened in those eight years. I moved in during the spring break of my sixth grade year. Now I'm in my second year away at college. So much happened. So much changed. So much of me changed. I'm not the same little eleven year old girl I was who first looked into this room with wonder as I got to experience moving for the first time. Yeah, I'd moved before, but this was the first time I'd gotten to pack boxes, change locations, unpack, design the setup of my own room, and decide what I wanted. I've watched this room grow and change as I have. It went from a minty green to a sapphire blue when all I wanted was for my walls to be black. It went from happy and innocent to troubled and angsty teen. It went through suicidal me, happy me. It saw me at my best, it's seen me at my worst. And yet, all it is is a room. It has no feelings, no emotions. It can't understand what it means to me, and now, after being at school, that's all I can see it as. It's just a room, a room that used to be my sanctuary. But it's no longer mine. My stuff resides here, but they are just material objects that have little connection to me and my current life. And I realize that I have no place now that serves the same function as this room did. I have nothing in my life now that provides the same comfort. The closest I have is Chris, and yet relationships are always shaky in my mind for none of mine seem to last. I've been told I'm loved and that they will never leave by too many people, and all have broken me and left. It's hard to trust a person, give them everything after so many have taken it all then thrown it in your face after cracking it a bit more. It's hard to believe when they say they will never leave. Buildings are strong. They rarely fail. They don't give up. But it is just a building. A building can't love you back, and that's why I care so much more for a person than I will ever care for a room that held me, a cold and lonely child lost in the dark of this world. Now I stand with another's hand in mine and we walk through the dark with our heads held high knowing that wherever we go, we go together. Yeah I'm "home" in the comfort of an old companion, but it's a companion that has aged beyond its ability to love me back. My true companion, my true support, is found in another person, and it is through his support that I travel now.