My trip last night seems like a dream. After standing outside the airport and hugging my mom for ten minutes, I went in and checked my luggage, said goodbye to my dad, and strode through the security gates; I couldn't look back and wave because the whole thing made me feel so sad and alone that I mostly felt like crying and I didn't want to burst into tears while I was getting my stuff x-rayed. So I focused on getting through security, then I focused on getting on the plane and finding my seat, then I listened to the new strokes album for five hours, and then I was here.

I cabbed it home instead of calling my relatives and asking for a ride. It was expensive, but I didn't care; for half an hour I sat there quietly, watching the lights zoom by in the dark, feeling homesick and lonesome and defeated, three words that seem to have become synonymous with living here. My apartment was full of things that reminded me of how excited I was to go home, and that's what really made me bawl, after all that make-believe stoicism: a countdown calendar with the days left until my departure all crossed out, a pile of clothes that didn't make the cut and got left behind, a little note I wrote myself because I knew how sad I'd be.

Now I have things to do: I need to get groceries, pay bills, clean my place. But somehow it feels so trite and useless, because what I really want to do is hang out with my sisters, watch the OC, and laugh for hours about nothing at all. This is so fucking hard. Last night before I left my mom looked at me and said, "I am sad that you're leaving, you know. I know I've joked about how much I hate goodbyes, but I'm not looking forward to you leaving at all." And I stood there for a while, speechless, until she came over and helped me heave my suitcases over to the door. "If this is how much stuff you've accumulated after three weeks, what is it going to be like when you pack up to come home for good ?", she joked. And there I was, speechless again, because my mom thinks I'm coming home and I think that I don't know what the fuck I'm doing and who knows what will really happen, I guess, but I miss my mom like crazy and I need to stop writing about this now, and go try to make my life as normal as possible.

so don't teach me to listen
cause i've already learned