She had said "You seem more comfortable in your own skin" back then...

[trenchkamen]

I'm having one of those nights where I don't feel comfortable in my own skin.

Really, I should be enjoying this more. The only thing I have "due" tomorrow is reading for work, and then spring break, but I just find myself pacing about the room and nervously wracking the volume on my iPod up and down as I muse about things that are ultimately of little use to anybody. I've been dabbling in said reading and Kingdom Hearts, but I keep returning to pacing. Too antsy to work on the website or write.

The first thing I want to do is leave my body and merge into the stars, so to speak, far above the city, pulling out through my own spine as my body bows forward with dead weight, but that isn't happening anytime soon, so I've been staring blankly at an article on glycomics. Something about the room, or the time frame, or the essence of the passage of time, or some strange, perverted time-space frame shift, is making me uncomfortable. This is not a good place. This is not where I want to stay.

I refuse to stay here.

I strongly believe if I keep moving forward, I'll find somewhere comfortable to be again.

It does seem reasonable this sort of existential angst is par for the course upon leaving one's old life behind (high school) and entering college, but this does not mean I regard it as any less significant. As a dear friend once pointed out, things that happen when you are young DO matter, else why would people still see therapists for those instances, or look up high school flames long after the time has passed? (You know who you are.) People keep saying these ARE the best days of our lives, after all. Discovery and turbulence and mobility and all of that.

But God knows, and I've had to learn it time and again, you can never go home. And sometimes "home" is just a state of being with the same friends, in the same place, and a shared history. But once you stop sharing history with people, you are no longer so much the "same" person anymore.

Comments

[berserker-m.livejournal.com]

I like to believe that if I keep moving foward that I'll be somewhere I want to be, but sometimes I'm not so sure. I really sympathize with that feeling of never being able to go home - it really hurts when I think about how I've moved from "super-close friends" to "merely acquaintances" with some people. 'Course, there's the occasional "remember when we did this" and that's always nostalgic.

[trenchkamen.livejournal.com]

Yeah. But we prosper, and everything will be all right.