The Duality of Homes- Otherwise Called Going to College

It’s not like I left home forever. It’s actually the smallest amount of actually-leaving-but-I’ll-be-back-soon, kind of leaving. That is I have left and I have returned and left again in cycles of weeks or months depending on how long I last out here. College. It has changed me in so many ways and then I go home and everything is the same enough to forget momentarily that I left at all. But every time I go home I have left a piece of me in this state, the state that is not my home. The place that is becoming my home because I chose to be here. But in leaving myself here, and myself there I am torn, always. 
Right now I try to swallow the stress and all consuming need to break down about what I need to accomplish and what I cannot accomplish, and freak out about how similar those circles are. It makes me miss when my mom would talk me down in high school, when she would come into my room late at night and tell me to just go to bed, to stop worrying. It makes me miss the hot cups of tea she would give me when I needed to relax, or the jokes my dad would crack when he knew I needed to laugh the most. I miss my room and being able to close and lock the door with clarity. I miss being able to sing in the shower and let the steam burn away the world that was weighing down so heavily on my skin. 
And when I’m home, I miss here. The way there is always something to do, someone to see, somewhere to be. The mess, the noise, the chaos. There is always something to laugh at or freak out about. There is the feeling of doing and needing to be done. I miss the people, the people that have become my family in this state that I never really saw myself living in. I miss the feeling of being a piece in something greater.
So I am torn. Always. And I cannot always imagine exclusively being not home, or creating a home that isn’t the one in my head right now. But right now, I long to be there. 

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