I thought that writing would make me feel better. And while it sometimes does, now isn't one of them. I thought I just wanted to go home. I thought that all I wnated was to spend the night in my old room, and feel safe. Never would I get the chance I thouhgt. I did. I know now, that I will never be able to go home. Life doesn't let you go back. It doesn;t give you a do-over. I found myself falling back into old routines. And silly things, like the way you walk down the stairs. You realize you can't really ever go back home
