God, I miss so many things about home. It’s weird that I’ve actually been home pretty much every weekend since school started, half-expecting that this missing piece I feel will be found the minute I step into my realm of familiarity. I’ve come to find that though my family is my absolute favorite thing about being home, it’s the experiences I lack when my friends are away that seem to keep the emptiness from being filled. It sounds stupid, but…
I miss real, uninhibited, lung-crushing hugs from people I’m not just sortof-friends with.
I miss tipsy, belly-aching laughs on margarita/Thai food takeout/board game nights.
I miss stoned swims in the neighbors pool, and even more stoned hours watching Netflix to no end.
I miss dressing up to look a year older and praying to some higher power that Danny didn’t card, just to get some wine.
I miss thrifting trips that end in the craziest outfits in even crazier places.
I miss swapping our favorite books amongst stories of our times apart.
I miss spontaneity.
I miss comfort.
I just miss home.