“This feels like home”

Perfect title for this entry, if I do say so myself.

Mom came home from the hospital after a forever two days ago, and i’m thankful. Ironically, yesterday was Thanksgiving, and i’m still stuck will those ungrateful brats. So much has happened in the past months. I feel in love, got my heart broken broke my own heart, then proceeded to hold on for dear life on a fleeting love. And I will call it love; i’m mature enough to realize the differences between hormones and what I feel. Onwards, to my real problem.

I knew it was going to be hard to move when we decided to move. I didn’t care, because no matter what my mom thinks (I know my dad must of come to some realization already), I’ll be moving out in two and a half years from now, probably going through summer break and enrolling in the fall. So, I just let it happen. Then my mom went into the hospital for 13 days. Not going to lie, I didn’t feel much at all. I love my mom, but it was like Mason came up to me and complained like he does when he gets a little cut; I know it’ll be fine, so no sympathy. One might try to put on trial for a lack of love or something more, but that is how I am. I grew up too fast, took on too many promises, broke too many of them. So, on the inside, I feel distant and cold, numb to all around me. I can be sympathetic, I can love, but I feel like most times logic takes over and boom, nothing left but a heartless, awkward boy who look like death.

But then when I did feel stuff (when I was with my family), it was utter terror or numbness or something similar to depression. I hate hospitals now, to me they do their job right, even amazingly at times, but as a son of an admitted person, any hospital is just a wall separating you from a loved one. Not a necessary evil, but evil itself, keeping them from you, not the sickness.

Eventually, after a troubling time, especially for my dad and me at home, she came home. Seeing her not able to move, or anything else really, did something to me, something I can’t describe, like something died in me. And who the hell do I talk to about this? Not my dad, who’s hair is greying everyday now. Not my mom, for fears that she will blame herself and feel guilt over the whole thing.

“Guilt, over being sick?”

Yeah, that’s how she rolls.

Anyway, i’m stuck with this feeling now, so I turned to something to take the edge off. I do it all the time, always in my room with the door shut. I do it the most when no one is home. That’s right, reading.

I didn’t just jump into reading, I hurled myself into it, allowing myself to delve into each story, becoming a part of the story, drifting away from my reality. I feel like i’ve been reading enough to say that every hardcore bookworm eventually does this, because we know that the books we read aren’t fairy tales, they are real and to us, ones who may be going through something, the reality in them are better than our own, regardless of killer robots or war or drama.

So then after coming home from the hospital a SECOND time, my family and I start to piece back our lives together. But that’s not all. My siblings can’t seem to sense any break or change in my parents demeanor. Maybe it’s that I watched my mom in her hospital bed the first time around, around ten years ago, and they didn’t. But they argue all the time, regardless of my mom having a headache and being bedridden at a newly moved into home. Or my dad, when they didn’t see him almost break down crying at Walmart when we went early Christmas shopping for my mom and couldn’t contain his sorrow. 

I think the thing that irks me the most is that even though my parents thank me for being a soldier and staying someone they could count on, they still show’d me no mercy on a lot of things. After all i’ve been though, I still have equal amount of home duties than my siblings, even though I moved boxes their weight twenty times over, even though I stayed firm amidst my broken heart, a dying parent, a depressed one, and school.

Anyway, this was a time for me to write all this down, and there’s no need to drag it out.

Landon Collins, signing off.

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