At Home

My whole life I've felt out of place. The the stuff I say, the things I do, the things I wear, and the things I believe - they all feel like me, but I never feel that I am where I'm supposed to be.

I thought it was a location thing. I've lived in Kentucky almost 6 years, and I hate Kentucky. The only redeeming factors Kentucky has are my good friends, and my best friend in the whole world no longer even lives here. I have a longing to travel. To fly, drive, or whatever. I just want to experience some place else. I'm infatuated with California. It just seems like it would be my kind of scene. I thought maybe I'd feel better if I got out of here.

I also thought part of it might simply be teenage angst. I'm huge into teenage angst. My favorite movies, music, and books are full of it. That's why I'm not afraid to say that I love young adult fiction.

I'm really independent. My mom hates it because I'll be away from home for days without ever thinking about calling home. I think it's because I don't feel like I have a place that I need to be. I have no roots. I can survive anywhere, because nothing can feel stranger than this place I'm forced to live. I've never felt at home.

A few summers ago when I was at a church camp, my then youth pastor and some of us were having a conversation about hand holding. Not for or against it (we were all for it, we were making fun of the camp's rules on public displays of affection), but what it meant. He said it was a sign of ownership. Even though I had never held hands with a girl, based off of observations and my imagination of what it would be like, I countered that it was a sense of security. After some debate, everyone came to agree with me.

The first time I had ever truly held hands with a girl in a romantic fashion was with this last girl. And I was right. Oh goodness, I was right. I'm always right.

Every time we held hands,

Every time we links arms,

Every time she smiled at me,

Every time she called me during my breaks at work,

Every time we hugged,

Every time we kissed,

That's when I felt at home.

For the first time in my entire life, I felt at home. I felt like I belonged somewhere. The world felt right. It seemed like nothing in the world mattered during those moments. My life could be falling apart, but it would be fine, because I was at home with her.

Everything was different with this girl in every way. That's why it hurt so bad when things ended. I had high hopes for a future, at least some form of a future that lasted longer than what we had. But I guess she evidently didn't feel the same way. There's nothing I can do to change that, and I don't blame her. I wish her the best with her ventures. It's just the way things are.

Maybe it's not a matter of location, and maybe it's not simply a case of teenage angst. I don't know what it is. But I now know what it feels like to be home. That's what I miss most of all.