I’m home now. Well, I’m in my apartment. But while I was gone, everyone I know piled their things into boxes and disappeared to not-here (to adventures, most of them, and maybe I’m a little jealous); I was so excited about my idyllic Midwestern summer that I forgot I wouldn’t have anyone to come home to.

And:

There’s a pile of clothes at the end of my bed that I don’t want to wash for fear they’ll lose the scent of mountain air and shampoo and cigarettes, a combination that I didn’t know would be so comforting on a hot, sleepy Monday afternoon.

And:

I keep thinking I want to go home, but there’s my coffee house right up the road, there’s the bus at the regular time, the church bells through the open windows, the sunset on the fire escape. This is home. Right where I left it.

Do you remember that scene where Charlton Heston finds the head of the Statue of Liberty and realizes he’s been on earth all along?

That’s a stupid metaphor. Forgive me, I slept two hours last night on a cramped airplane, and I just want to go home.

hi internet I’m alive I’m in Washington and I just want you all to know that Greta made me listen to Dave Matthews within hours of arriving but I STILL like her???? weird.

shhh nobody move there’s a cat by my leg and he’s putting one paw on my hip real tentatively because he’s a lil dummy who doesn’t understand how human bodies work but still wants to get his nose up where the warm air comes out of my laptop

I’m officially an advocate of Running Away The Weekend Before Finals

(via chejustus)