Like home

Let's be honest, things have been screwed up for a long time.
The wounds I have cut beyond the bone, and heal oh so slowly.
I want so bad to find a place where I feel like I belong,
but I'm starting to realize that I've already been there.
The place I've felt like myself, like I could find my home, was always with you.
You feel like home. Like the blue stucco walls and dried out tree steps I grew up with;
like the comfort I found in microwaving my own food or doing my own laundry because my mom wasn't around.
You feel like home. Like the smell of the grass I used to cut, or the feeling of the worn blue couch I spend so many nights of my life waiting for you on.
Someday I'll have another home, but I'll always remember the way you brought me back to where I've been trying to get all along.

Finger dancers

Fingers dancing delicately, like I'm making pictures in the sand.
To the passerby it might look boring, but it's entrancing; writing out words I'll never speak, and that my canvas can't understand.
It's soothing for everyone who's apart of it, bonding in a way that would sound silly if we applied the words.
Watching as tiredness sets in, and the worries of the day meander away with the passing of my hands, I know that this is what makes life worth living, these precious moments shared so nonchalantly.

It's no secret...

It's not a secret that I took the layoffs at 1up very hard. While I know I wasn't the only one, I find that I am the quickest to have it show outwardly. Losing the job at 1up was the end of a long dream I've had in my head. Not only did I lose a job at the only enthusiast press outlet that I felt I could work at, but I was going to lose out on the daily time I got to spend with the people I care about the most.

I'll miss meandering around the floor, bantering with Alice, Tina, Nick, Phil, and Justin.

I'll miss the times when I could steal Alice's guitar and squeeze in a few moments of play to calm my nerves when things were starting to go south.

I'll miss the satisfaction of seeing my own name make it into print.

I'll miss the cold mornings and early evening times that I got to spend walking home in company of people I love.

A lot of good came from the job. Not only did I make money and get myself semi-established in the industry, but I was also able to use it to get a job for friends of mine, taking them out of shitty situations and hopefully placing them in some capacity where they can achieve all the things they were meant to.

It's hard to not be excited with all the potential that's floating around, but I'm scared to death of how I'm going to pay for life here in a month or so. Still, even with all the hardship of job and money, I find myself thinking more about the immaterial things I lack -- and how I'd give most anything for that not to be true. Money can fill the walls of my house and the space in my wallet, but can't do anything about the growing maw I feel in my chest each day when I wake up.

This song, even if you don't like it, says a lot of what I'm feeling.



You're a boomerang...you'll see.