Well, to whoever reads this, know that I'm making plans to go "home" for the Thanksgiving break. For a few days at most, but I have a feeling that I won't come out of this break mentally unscathed. My family and I haven't been on good terms, ever. With a mother who thought that banging a baby's head on a table was a good idea on how to make it stop crying until she finally wound up leaving due to mental health issues, a "father" who believed that continuing the cycle of violence and abuse was a good way to carry on his life, and a grandmother who seems adamant on reminding everyone around her that because she is not well she should be the number one thing in everyone's life, I don't know how I'll be able to stand it.
That's not the words of things though. I've made a decision that I will not be going home for the month surrounding Christmas. Last year was a major step since I only spent a week in town. That didn't go over well to say the least. I wound up leaving without incident. I wish I could say the same about this past summer. This summer was my own proverbial Hell. From hospital to home and back again without a moment to myself for the most part. Barely a moment to sleep, the side effects of which I am still working through even now, going on five months later.
I've grown too used to my freedom to go back to the confines - the prison that my hometown represents. I'm not the lonesome little freshman that I was four years ago. I'm not the tired sophomore that existed three years back. I've found my rhythm in this world and to go back to a life that forces me to suppress all that is unthinkable. I just need to think of a way to tell my family. Especially, after Thanksgiving when I make my last plea for assistance from them for tuition.
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