home.

Home. What is "home?" Is home where the heart is, where your family is, where you're currently living, where you've lived the longest, where? The answer is different for everyone, so I guess the answer lies within oneself. For me, home is where I feel...myself. Home is a place that I can go to and just feel comfortable in my own skin, confident with my personality, and sexy despite all of my flaws. It's a place I can go to feel the weight lift off of my shoulders, a place where I can FINALLY stop pretending. That place, I've realized today, is New York City.

I dreaded coming back. I didn't want to leave my family, I didn't want to leave the bonds I'd created, the memories I'd made, the experienced I'd come to know...but I did. One of my biggest characteristics is my ambition and drive--something that I won't let anyone take from me, but this summer, I wanted to let go of this immensely. But now that I'm back, I realize the void I've felt, the sadness within me.

Walking around today, seeing the familiar places, ignoring the idiots,judging the rest, and drinking coffee that wasn't Starbucks....I felt at home, I felt myself. Sitting in Tompkins reading, listening to a solo saxophone, and watching the frisbees and kids, I just felt comfortable. I felt comfort, confidence,and alive all at the same time. Relief washed over me and I felt alive.

But where do you draw the line between ambition and compromise?

I haven't figured this out yet. I have this thing where I can't possibly imagine myself making changes in my life for another person,mostly because every time I have it has back fired. But then I wonder if I just sabotage myself. I don't let anyone know what my motives are, so how should they know?? Should everyone just learn to read my mind--a mind that I keep quite under wraps? Yep. Guess so. I haven't found the balance,if you find it,let me know. For know I'll remain selfish and concentrate on myself. I'm twenty...I guess that's what a twenty year old living in New York City is supposed to do, eh?

The warmth will just have to wait. I am pretty closed up, but when people are able to read through this silly wall, I'm quite amazed. It also surprises me when someone notices those quirky things I do that I don't even notice. I mention this because someone has, which is so strange as this person is a stranger.

It's nice.

For now, I'm home, wandering, living, breathing, reading, and simply BEING in this concrete jungle. It's my home. I guess I'm sort of in love with NYC. It gets me. (And caffeinates me.) I'm so tired of moving. I'm so tired of living out of a suitcase. In a few days,I'll be able to unpack and actually make myself at home in my home. For now,I'll live with the relief that I feel. It's so damn satisfying.