My parents got home tonight. They were gone for a week and it was so nice to have the house (mostly) to myself. Now that they're back it feels familiar and different all at the same time. Not in a good way. All the tension that follows my family members around bleeds in this house and gushes when they're near. Part of me feels guilty thinking that I wish that they weren't around, or better still that I wasn't around but most of me doesn't. I'm not like them, any of them. It's so hard to be confined within these walls for all these years knowing that I'm nothing like any of these people and that they will never understand me just as I will never understand them. That's why I need to leave. That's why I should be gone. I wish more than anything that I was out of here again. I know what it feels like to be free. I know what it feels like to live on my own and I miss it more than I can say.

I ended up at Ikea today and wandered through the filthy zoo of suburban consumers, looking at stuff. God, it's just depressing. On one hand I walked and looked thinking of how nice it will be to have my own space someday to put things that I choose in, to furnish my "home," and on the other hand knowing- or not knowing really when that will ever happen... And people wonder why I've spent all summer looking for a doorway. What am I doing all this for? It's been 2 years and I'm just where I started. fuck.