goddammit

coming home feels like a sigh of relief after three months of holding my breath, except that it's almost too comforting to be in familiar places and fall into familiar roles, because things don't fit the same anymore and nostalgia doesn't solve a goddamn thing. i'm fucking pissed off with myself for not being able to let go and let the past be the past and leave sentimentality to candy hearts and sappy songs or even to occasional phone calls back home instead of to iconic ideals of home and childhood and belonging. even cynicism and fatalism and apathy can't scour away all this accumulated emotional filth. so much neediness and attachment is revolting. i can't figure out why i don't want to rebel or whatever it is, break out of old boundaries. i think it's either because i am so wholly contained within my constraints that i don't even know what they are, or because there are none and the only thing i can do is float away purposelessly, lost.