I'm still here.

I just wish I could figure out where 'here' was. My psyche is acting a little like my dog. She sits down, looks around my room and says brightly "This is great! But when are we going home?" And I calmly tell her that we *are* home. It's different, but it's home now. And she gives me a blank stare, tilts her head and goes "But when do we get to go *home*?".

Pardon me. It's not been easy. It wasn't easy last time either, I'll have to be completely honest. But at that time, I knew that my uncle's place was temporary, that I still had a home back in Kansas. That I could still go back.

And it's not that I had all too much to miss. I had become a rather faded wallflower to most of the people of my church. I didn't have a lot of friends ('cept for you, disillusioned). Perhaps I should have gone out more, talked more, but that's just not how I roll. But I do miss trees. I miss rolling hills. I miss the open sky and horizons. I miss all those awesome indie shops with their "smoking accessories" (trans. bongs but don't tell the police) tucked away upstairs behind dark counters. I miss driving to Kansas City.

But it's not that I don't like it here. The people here are more outgoing and they seem friendlier (EXCEPT WHEN THEY'RE IN THEIR CAR). The mountains are amazing and even more so now that I can see them thanks to my optometrist who is the son-in-law to the doctor who delivered me. I also get meds from the pharmacist who gave prescribed meds to my parents before I was even conceived. I see a dentist who used to play with my aunts and uncles when they were kids. I mean, the connections to everyone here are overwhelming!

I think I'll have to wait a little longer for my psyche to finish turning in circles in my room and finally settle down comfortably. It'll happen. Eventually.