Genuine pt2

Home isn't home anymore.
Everything hurts when I'm on my own.
I'm the most loyal person I know.
I've got too much it hurts.

Vague statements, you might think. Yeah you're right. I don't even know.

On the way back from Liverpool/London last night, eg the driving back to Exeter leg of the journey, I was talking to mum about whether or not I enjoyed myself. Of course I did. Sure I was nervous as hell when I got off the train. My whole anonymity thing is a big issue for me, maybe because of itself as a circle, but for whatever reason it is, and it was a big deal to break it. But it was for the right people.

I can honestly say that Saturday night was the best night out I've had in about 2 years. Why?
I was happy.
I didn't feel like I had anything to prove. I didn't feel I had to be responsible for anyone else. I drank a lot but I didn't really feel it, because I was happy, for the above reasons.

I don't know what the point of this post is, then again I don't know what the point of any of my posts ever is. I'm just pointless.

Even when I was enjoying myself, I wasn't, if you get what I mean. There were moments in my head I'd be doing my nut in over something or nothing, that happens everyday though.
The main difference is that while I'd go out with my old 'friends' or ever at home, I'd be feeling constantly paranoid. On Saturday, I felt so much less paranoid than I could believe. These are people that genuinely know me as a person more than that old lot ever did, so it makes life easier.

But once more I had to come home.

I hadn't really ever thought about it properly before, but I think I get why being back sucks so hard. This place doesn't hold any good memories for me any more. Home is where I'd sit all day every day, on my own, with nothing to do and no one to see and no reason to get up and out of bed, just stewing in my own misery, for months on end when I was incapable of really living. This city is full of people I'd rather not see, round every corner of every building I'd rather not see either. But even though its a lot of bad memories, I still want to love it. But too many people have ruined too much of it for me.

So now home doesn't feel like home anymore, not so far as somewhere I can relax and feel happy, and feel able to get up in the morning.

I know this might seem like the same post as the last long one, and I know I'm talking round in circles, but that's my head for you. If I'm honest, I'm talking shit about some stuff to stop myself from talking shit about other stuff I know is bouncing around in my head, and that ain't doing me no favours either.
But that stuff will have to stay put and shut up for as long as it takes, no choice.

And home will have to stay as home for at least another year, if not two. I got some more choices to make soon, which I'm fed up of making. They're just small choices, they're not the bigger picture, and it fucks me off that they end up being so important. I could be stuck here for another two years if I want enough money to do what I want in the long run and not have to worry so much financially, or I could just stay here one more year and then fuck off, but be poorer.

Oh I don't know, who cares.