I haven't written anything here in a long time, and I'm pretty proud of that. I finally figured out to talk to these things with the people in my life (and to just not worry as much, but anyway). But, I graduated this spring, and in the process of leaving, I just said goodbye to the last really good friend to leave for the summer (she's gone for good too, which I suppose is significant; also, she's my best friend).

And now, suddenly, this place isn't home anymore.

I mean, yes, I'll still be living here until the start of July, but I read this in one of Neil Gaiman's works and it really rings true to me:
"I don't think home's a place anymore. I think it's a state of mind."

Well, I've checked out. Suddenly this is just the place I sleep. And it's completely unexpected... and more than a little hollow.

Starting over is difficult. I think we all know that. I think it might be even more difficult knowing you have to start over in a month, but not getting the chance to do it yet. I don't like being in a state of waiting. I'm in constant motion, even if it's in little tiny circles. That's what keeps me... not sane by a long shot... happy? almost... perhaps it's just what keeps me.

Perhaps I'll have something to say here in the coming months, because I always fancied myself a bit of a storyteller, and for the moment I'm plumb out of people to tell stories to.