Nostalgia.

The wave of nostalgia sweeping over me is viciously overwhelming. It's almost unbearable, as if a million of those little colored rubber bands are being stretched throughout my brain - each one its own emotionally-damaging or saving memory and thought. I can almost feel the friction where they cross paths. Abrasive, but they continue, regardless.

I have spent so many years in this house. This was the first place I lived when I moved to Texas to Florida. I was sad to leave home, but happy to be near Grandma and Grandpa. It was a big change, but I knew that we would make it. I grew so much, and somehow, I always end up back here periodically at very important, vital parts of my life. Somehow it always seems to be when I feel like giving up. As I sit here, staring out the window, wishing that my grandmother was here for me to talk to...I realize how much I've grown. How much the world has changed around me, and how much I have changed to adapt to the world. How much I still need to learn, and feel, and experience.


And as I sit here, I still feel hopeless...and lost...I wish it was raining. I pray for a thunderstorm. I do not enjoy feeling this way. I wish I could see the future, but I don't. I know I need to persist, for others - I just wish I could persist for myself.

In 2 weeks, I say my goodbyes to Florida. Who knows what Massachusetts will have in store for me. It's terrifying, but I know it needs to happen.