6.3.05

i've been home for about a week and a half now, sinking into a stagnating routine of staying up late, waking up late, and doing nothing but drink tea and do laundry all day long. it's a life that fits my surroundings; the woods lend themselves to such isolation. it is an extreme shift from the sort of life i've been living and i keep being surprised at how difficult the transition is. it's never been hard to live here in the past; before, it was just life as life should be.

there are still vestiges of that: everything i do here all day long is worthy. i'm missing pieces now, though, that were not missing before. i am missing jon. i am missing the ability to change the feel of my surroundings by walking a quartermile to a different part of town, to a pub with a different color scheme and age group. connecticut (in its representative sense) and edinburgh. they're fused in my mind.

during this past week and a half i've been growing nostalgic for my childhood in a way i've never experienced before. i am actually longing to be five years old again, playing office with nicole johndro and watching reading rainbow while my dad made dinner. i am doing this entirely out of desire for the simplicity of that time: in memory, at least, there was no threat surrounding me. it isn't a yearning for carefree comforts; it's a yearning for a time when the fabric of my existence didn't feel so ravaged.

even as i have these thoughts, i think that i'm halfway astonished that my life has come to a point where such nostalgia is comforting. it scares me a little bit.

i am constantly assuring myself that things will change, and change they have. i am not satisfied. i want more change; i want things to be happy again.