Home

Driving home often feels like going to the gallows. Not that there's anything wrong with my house, but it seems like the loneliest place in the world. No one will be there when I walk in the door. No one will be happy to see me; no one will greet me. It is the main thing that reminds me how depressing my life is. And when there's no sun, I'm stuck inside and there is nothing that can cheer me up. It feels dark all the time. I hate it.

I find myself biding time at school doing nothing. Putting off the drive home, the unlocking of the door, the walk through the foyer, turning on the lights, hearing nothing out there to comfort me. It's a cold house, even with the heat turned all the way up. I don't know how to avoid home. It's like the chain that keeps choking the dog at the edge of the yard. I would sleep in my car if I could. Somehow the feeling that lives in my house is so powerful, so inescapable, that I can feel it as soon as I start down the steps to the parking lot.