Wednesday, August 17, 2011

BEDA: Day 17

I've moved around so much in these past years. Not only houses, but schools and friends and lives. It's gotten to a point where I feel like I've gotten so comfortable where I am that I need a change. That I need to start over. I've been at the school I'm at now for two years, and this will be my third. I've kept my friends for longer than I really have before.
I've spent more time being the new girl than being someone established. But it's never really bothered me. I always liked that sense of being different, being the one to intrude on the lives that people have established, the one who hasn't been with everyone sense kindergarten. But now that I know that I'm going to be in the same district and with most of the same people until I graduate, it changes things. I don't know how to be in the same place for so long.
For the past year I've been thinking about college and things, and I've known that I'll be the one of my siblings to leave our home state. But I've gotten comfortable here. I have friends who I see regularly, and I nice house and am surrounded constantly by family. And while I've always liked being different, I like this too.
One of my friends is leaving the house she's lived in all her life and the school she's always gone to and the friends she's had, and she's scared. It's been my life for so long that I've forgotten that other people don't want to leave.
I'd like to think of it as my life having chapters. When I started the seventh grade in a new, scary school, the chapter of my life before it hadn't quite ended. It wasn't until I realized that I would never again be friends with the person I had considered my best friend for so long that that chapter ended. And it wasn't until I read Kayley's post yesterday that this last chapter in my life had ended also.
So really, I don't know where my home is. I mean, technically, the place I'm sitting now is my home. But it's also been so many other places. I don't know. Maybe the fun is in finding out.
Until tomorrow.

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