Home?

Alright, I’m ready to go back home. As in Rochester. Never thought I’d call that my home. But I guess part of becoming an adult is that long stays at your parents house just become unbearable.  You realize how much you’ve grown/changed/become your own person, which means you realize how little you have in common with your parents. Or how you care about completely different things; how the simplest of comments sets off a disagreement; how they don’t even know/care about things that interest you; and how they don’t understand the way you eat. Two weeks home was definitely ambitious. I’m bored, anxious, uncomfortable, and frustrated.

I guess this is the first time my childhood home hasn’t felt like home. The first time Rochester has felt like my home. And the first time the excitement to see my family again hasn’t outweighed the inability to express myself and the uncomfortable feeling I get now. It’s a little sad; I feel like some reminiscent Indie film (insert bad Garden State reference here). I guess I understand that sentiment fully now. Also, not sure if I’m ready for this level of adult, but here I am.

At the same time I’m this adult person, I’m being questioned about relationships; references to buying a house, settling down, and children are around. NO. I’m 22 and so not ready for that. Is it really that weird for a 22 year old to be single, not thinking about having kids or finding a husband, still trying to figure out where she wants to spend the rest of her life? Is it that weird for me to move away from my family and not want to come back?