It's the end of the summer and those few months adding up to a year are closing in. I will have been here a year at the end of October and I know I'm getting restless. The energy spent acquiring a job, dropping a life, moving two and a half hours away was both tough and exhilarating. Shortly thereafter, the doldrums of life set in, and no matter how much I try to shake my life up, there's only so much I can do without shaking everything out. The unrelenting apathy of adulthood was something I was never expecting. And here it is.

I've been having odd sleeping schedules recently. I can go a few days of midnight to seven-thirty (ok, it's probably eight), one or two in the morning until eight, and then one day when I'll feel some sort of exhaustion and lie down at 7:30. And when I have enough time to dream, I've been dreaming about him. He's always someone different, but with that same spark that I loved so deeply. The only person I've loved, and the only person that has encouraged me to be ever more than I am. There's something odd about the way I last talked to him, how I knew that if I saw him I would know that instant that any affection I had for Will was false, that I was living some life just because it was the thing to do, it was comfortable, I liked him, we got along. But beyond that, there wasn't anything there. We were friends, really good, exclusive friends, but we didn't have that thing that Tim and I had.

Nothing I'm doing now is all that comfortable, besides designing. And I'm caught wondering if I'm dreaming about him because I'm lonely or because there was something there that I left behind.

When I left my parent's house, I was alone and the house was quiet, but at the same time, it wasn't. It was like the place was calling me, closing around me, beckoning me back home. I wondered if it was this way for everyone, if your home suddenly isn't your home anymore, would you ever find a new place to call home? Would there ever be a place where I could feel comfortable again?