Weasels

I find myself fighting back and forth for a decision over my education. I spent five months abroad in London last year, and I'd never felt more at home than sitting on a random stair along the road of the city. I've always been a country girl. I grew up around horsefarms with Colorado-blood running through my veins. I've never been a city girl. I've hated the city from the moment I first stepped into it. But London was bright and open; nothing like the dark heaviness that weighs on Atlanta, or New York. It's weird for me to fit in a city. But I did. My hate of tennis shoes sparked me to wear some delicate boot and my refusal to go on any guided tours—I hardly looked like a tourist. London accepted me with the wide arms of history and clean tube stations.

But now, living in a place I once called home—well, it doesn't feel like Home anymore. There are niches I sink into every now and then, like striking the set earlier today for the theatre or when I ride in the equestrian club. I find myself looking for reasons to justify me moving back permanently—because for some reason, I feel the need to have a reason. Like "Because I want to" isn't enough anymore. Maybe it wasn't ever. But I don't fit in my old home—and that's probably the slimiest sensation one could imagine. It makes me feel gross, and wrong.
I guess I just really don't belong here anymore...

http://www.courses.vcu.edu/ENG200-lad/dillard.htm

For whatever reason, this short story that I had to read for class helped me. I thought I'd link it here for anyone else who needs a new point of view.

                             — KGratiaM