I used to hate coming home. I know that hate is a “strong word” but it was never something that I looked forward to, and more often than not something I dreaded. Coming home meant dragging my shit back and forth between houses, feeling left out while hanging with my friends and feeling much more lonely than I ever did at school.

That all changed this summer. For some reason, this summer has made me fall in love with being “home” all over again, and I’m actually willing to call it that again. I’ve always felt that my friends were my real family, and this summer has only proven that to be true. When I chose a school 2200 miles away, I did so without reservation about leaving this place behind. I was looking forward to starting over in a new place, and making my own home. Now, as graduation draws near (I know the next two years will fly by faster than I can imagine) I’m starting to wish I hadn’t made the decision so quickly.

I’ve earnestly enjoyed being here this summer, and it’s not because of my parents. If I could, I would move into my own apartment and get away from the constant arguing about money, time and image, but right now that’s just not an option. Something about this summer, coupled with my last year at school, has made me appreciate being in a place where people know me for who I really am, and I don’t feel like I have to defend myself to anyone. After 13 years here and 2 years away, I finally feel like this is where I belong.

So thank you for that.