tight chested.

This feels unfinished because I don't think I can handle finished. Everything seems to be that way now a days. I'm okay with this trip ending but I'm not holey prepared to deal with myself or my continuing. I didn't expect this, all my thoughts of home felt warm and comforting like blankets or tea but somehow these same places now feel awkward and frustrating, I'm out of place in my own skin. This makes finishing, or deciding what do next feel like wearing a coat that's a size to small. Tight chested, I hold options that I knew were waiting for me but none of them feel appropriate, so I just keep looking at them as if they are going to somehow shift into things that feel better, things that feel right. It has been a whirlwind since Geneva a city that more than ever seems like a dream. I miss my friends, my daily routine, and having purpose I think stings the most. Its as if a cruel joke allowed me to see inside a door told me"this is what your life could be like" and then slammed it in my face. "End this blog on a high note Heidi" is all I could tell myself but as January approaches I realize its time to finish this with honesty, an emotion I have revealed little lately. I've masked loneliness,disappointment, and a stew of sour emotions because who wants to be that whining girl, whoa is me from my trip to Europe. Even more then no one wants to hear it I don't want to be it but that doesn't change my situation. It doesn't change the feeling of homelessness. Not actually homeless but being in places without the feeling of home, now its very cold in Michigan but I think sometimes the latter is the worst of the options. For graduation I went through the motions but yet with most things as of late it lacked the internal enthusiasm I hoped it would summit. Going to Pittsburgh with Bea was an escape but the inevitability of life waited patiently in Michigan, just as it did December 1st when I hugged Bryan goodbye in the Leonardo Da Vinci airport. I felt the same then, I felt like me still and now... now...it just feels ugly. How do I have these rude feelings in the faces of people who love me? I don't. Maybe another disappearing act would work at least when I'm away I have reason to feel out of place. This angsty post is even nauseating for me to read. The problems of white suburbia are hardly worth writing about.