So I travelled down to home tonight as I am going away for a few days with Jason on a fishing trip in Weymouth.
Heh. Home.
Funny how I automatically use that term.
This is anything but.
I am at my folks place.
Yep, thats better.
What I am trying to say is, this is not the house I grew up in.
I have no attachment to it, no memories, nothing.
In fact, if the truth were to be told, there never was a childhood home.
We moved ten times during my childhood.
You heard right, Binky, ten
My form tutor always wrote my address in pencil because he knew it would change.
I don't feel overly comfortable here, I can't relax like I can in the house in Manchester.
It's the house where they now live.
If I think back to when I did live at home I get a little upset.
They were not overly happy times.
I'm not going to go into any detail, I know there are plenty of people who had it a lot worse than I ever did.
I used to have so much anger in me but this has slowly dissipated over the years.
At one point I achieved a kind of Zen attitude to my parents in terms of they were just people like you and I , doing the best they could under the circumstances.
But that wasn't true. They could have done better.
Maybe I have it backwards.
Maybe the reason I feel uncomfortable here is not because I think myself so different from them, but because deep down I am afraid that I am exactly like them.
Shit.
Nah, I wouldn't let that be true.
For what comes naturally to some people I have to continually work at and I won't ever stop 'til I get it right.
Anyway.
It's 02.03 am and time for bed.
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