There’s no place like home

I really want to go back to my home at my-meadow. I feel like a fugative, posting here so my soon to be ex can’t read any secrets of my new life, so I don’t have to worry about being spied on. I don’t know why I should care, but I do. I know he was there once upon a time, but I don’t know if he followed me or even cares to. I guess I am just a bit paranoid.

Sometimes I wonder if my life could have been any different if I did things differently. It just seems as if I have experienced more than my fair share of crap. Notice I used the word fair. Probably nothing is really fair about sadness and tragedy. There is no more normal here, just day to day, whats next? Right now I look forward to having no IV and no wires sticking out of the finger so I can do really easy things like cook, wash dishes and shower without swathing my body in plastic wrap. I have always said little things make me happy, I’ll bet no one realized how little those things were.

God I pray that things don’t get worse. Because I know that they can.

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