There's something upsetting about not feeling like you have a home. Every year in college, I get uprooted and have to move from my mother's 'home' to my school 'home'. Then, on holidays, they force you out of the dorms and you have to move back 'home'. But for someone like me who makes home one place and tires to keep it that one place, this is incredibly difficult. I hate relocating. I hate it even more when you do it so often that your 'home' doesn't truly feel like home should. In my mind, home is somewhere that you not only live at long-term but somewhere where you feel welcome, where you feel as if you fit in. It's a place where your cares can be separated from work or school. It's a place where you love sitting in the family room because it gives you the comfort of family and closeness. It's somewhere you look forward to going every day because it is that wonderful, calming sanctuary.

Even now, with my first rented 'home', it still doesn't feel like home. It feels like a cage. There's one room in my 'home' that feels like me. I find comfort in that place but it's only one room. The rest of the house is barren, cold, unfriendly. Even though I pay the bills and clean the bathroom and kitchen, it still doesn't feel like home should.

For the first half of this summer, my home back in my hometown felt like a home. It was my place of refuge. Now, though, even it feels like a facade. It's not the home it once was. When I need to get away from my rented 'home', not even home feels like a vacation. I need an escape from my escape. I need out of this town. I need out of this monotonous, repetitive life with its dull sights and drab countryside.

I keep telling myself that I just have one year left before I can leave. Less than one year actually. That's really not that long. But I don't think I can make it a year. I don't think I can make it until winter. My life is no longer measured in weekends away with my family, holidays away from school, or family events away from everything. It's measured in how many weeks until next month, how many months until next semester, how many semesters until I can get away from here. That's a sad way to live if you ask me.