Harsh reality

Pondering my life as I sit and stare at the walls of my room. Walls that I looked at hundreds upon hundreds of times over the past ten years. The oddness that reaks from the posters of the black basketball players. I thought about tearing them down in the future.

Pondering this past semester, my first semester as a college student in Texas---doing my own laundry, becoming a better musician (or at least gaining more musical knowledge---do I even care anymore?), drinking coffee, agreeing with myself that I don't want to be an accountant. Personal growth...have I grown? The disconnection is still there, but not because I want it to be. And yet through the changes that have been made, so much still remains the same. That terrible off-and-on depression, working against it every day. Silly that I fooled myself into thinking the main problem would mostly go away once I left for college. Not only was it still there, but reinforced almost every day. All the time...and then they'd all leave for the weekend. They would all go home. The feeling that I felt when I saw the empty parking lot and knew where they had gone. Home to see their mom and their dad. The visits from happy families, complete happy families and happy friends. The closeness and the bonds that I'll never have. The brokeness from the instant pain that comes ever so quickly, as I walk across campus by myself. That never goes away.

Then, looking at the cold walls of my bedroom. This isn't home.

Silly me, I knew I couldn't run away from all of it, but I thought I could escape most of it. It chases after me, every day. How I respond will determine the outcome of my life.

"This is how you remind me..."