I tried to refrain from admitting this, but I think I've overstayed my welcome in my own house. It's not that my parents don't love me and appreciate me, but it's as if the initial glow of "Wow! I haven't seen you in so long" is gone and now I'm just here.
I always thought it was important for a young adult to get out of the town in which they grew up in so that we could make new memories and have new experiences and find who we are outside the confines of our old mistakes. Since I've been back, I don't know. It feels hollow here, as if the memories I had were last week's dreams. At the same time, I've regressed and found that I've fallen short in every possible fathomable aspect. I don't like it here.
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