Haven't written here in a whole week. Last week I was hiding under the covers, heavily medicated, and under the influence of the flu that ate my life. I got so sick and feverishly delirious I called my mom and cried I wanted to come home. "I want to come live at home and have you take care of me and tell me I'm pretty all the time and that all your friends think so too and not have any more roommate problems or talk to any more boys, or hang out with any friends, I just want you, Mom". She was ecstatic, of course. My parents are not the kind that want their kids to leave. They're the kind that want their kids to stay. Forever. And my mom loves to take care of me. This has maybe worked some sort of a reverse-psychology on me and maybe accounts for why I tend to be so independent. And maybe why I've moved myself 2500 miles across the country. Still, when you're sick, having Mom care for your every need and showering you with praise seems like a wonderful idea.
I am feeling much better now, but after my little outburst to Mom I began realizing just how homesick I really am. Maybe it's time to think about moving back home again.