I used to think that it'd make me really happy..never having to see that house every week. There are too many bad memories that have accumulated from years of family deterioration to count..enough to outnumber the good memories I've had. Too many fights that I've wanted to forget. Too many times I've woken up in my bed hating life. Too many disappointments and too many failures.
But it's not so much the house that I'm going to miss. Sure, I had the most kick ass room that there ever was, fully equipped with The Beatles posters and the most awesome bed ever (cause that's where the magic happens). But it was the independence that went along with simultaneously living in two places that I loved about my life. It wasn't ideal. For the first four years it was rather difficult. I became forgetful and irresponsible, not to mention I was remarkably confused as to what to call home. But when I started going to high school, constantly moving and changing scenery had become a part of my routine, and I loved it. I loved only having to live with my dad a couple days out of the week. And I loved when I went to LA and everyone was happy to see me after my week long absence. I became so accustomed that if I stayed in one place for more than five days I became impatient and annoyed. I had to constantly move from place to place or I would get stir crazy. So how is this going to work out?
Wish me luck in the next couple months when I'm going to have to learn how to stay in one place again.
Also, Tiffany Joy Whitaker.
I miss my lion.
