there is so much I have to say. But that's the problem, there are too many things I have so much to say on I never take the time to write the paragraphs it needs. So I end up procrastinating and coming here just to write the fleeting thoughts I know I need to write down.

Ok.

I don't belong here.

I just realized this. I guess I really should have realized it a long time ago. And I guess I always knew, or I always thoughta bout it and pushed it from my mind. But now I am acknowledging it. I do not belong here. My friends here are not really my friends.Which I am not sure if I truly believe or if its just a reaction to whats going on right now. Probably a combination. But, honestly, we really don't have anything in common. None of my roommates have a past like mine. Their high school experiences are not similar to mine, they didn't dedicate their life to sports, they had jobs, they learned to drive, they partied, they lived in completely different places, they love fashion, they have sex, they hate facebook, they love tumblr. My true sense of self does not fit in with these people. My home friends completely do not mix here.

I would still do anything for them, and when it comes down to it I believe a few would do the same for me. I would love to go back in time, but right now I'm dealing with the present.

There are only two real reasons why I am making myself stay here. And one if I'm being completely honest.

A boy.

I am ashamed to say it, and I barely believe it, but I know its true.

And now i'm going back in time to become the juvenile teenager that I skipped experiencing when the time was appropriate, and now I'm screwing up my present and my future, for a boy.

I have so many things I need to write about. I have ideas written down about topics I need to expand on. But right now, all I can say is I can not believe that I just had a normal holiday. The first normal one I have had in years. To be honest, I'm in a little bit of shock. There were no arguements, no throwing things, nothing life-threatening happened, no late night phone calls to my best friend crying, no walking out of my house into the rain just to get away from everything. My sister came down, my dad was off from work, and we all went in one car to my grandmother's house. We had the football game on, we finished cooking dishes, my dad carved the turkey and we all sat down to eat. We all lingered at the table even after we were done, talking; my grandmother and great aunt and her nurse telling stories about when they were children. Then we cleared the table, checked the scores, made coffee and had dessert. I took a mini-nap on the couch.

I. Felt. Normal.

Isn't that insane?

I used to love holidays, I used to love my big Italian family. Then so much shit went down. Stuff that may have been going on for awhile in smaller doses, but I was shielded from because I was younger. It doesn't matter; back then I was happy, the past six years, not so much. I still love going to my gramma's house on sundays for pasta and the mets game, but its completely different now. Everyone's not there.

Today was quiet. More like the old times, in some ways, in others it was drastically different. We were never quiet, but it was in a good-natured, family way. What I mean is that we just didn't mention the seats around the table that should be filled. Obviously referring to a few people who have died. But beyond that, the estrangements, the fights, the "I won't come if he's going to be there"'s. The people who have just drifted off after things have happened and no matter how much  I reach out they go further away, and I feel like something must have happened that I missed. Recent events have showed me nothing needs to happen for people to want you out of their lives. Its just how life is.

That's why I refuse to let anyone go without a fight. And its also why I never cut anyone out, no matter how much stress they give me or how detrimental to me they actually are. It's not fair to do that. To anyone. No matter what.

The fact that everything seemed normal today, makes me wonder how fake everyone was. And I don't know if I should complain, because is it better to have things go smoothly on the surface even if its just that, the surface, and everyone's being fake? Or to know you're being real and have everything come crashing down.

I may sound like I'm being melo-dramatic, you can think that, but I know I'm not.

My best friend told me he knows I never lie to him, and I don't. First of all because he knows me too well and can read me so easily. Second, I trust him more than I trust myself, and there's no reason to keep anything from him. If I ever lie, its, "What's wrong?" and i'll say  "nothing." and he'll immediately call me on it. Anyway, the point to this was he once told me I'm too nice to be fake. I can't be fake to people I care about. Obviously I'm able to put on a false smile to the aquaintences I have that I really don't like, and pretend.

But when people ask me to be fake, and I really care about the person, it kills me. I'll sit there silently, forcing a smile through every once and a while, pretending to be involved. But if they know me at all, it's beyond obvious.

This is how I was today. I was more sincere, because everyone there I care about. But there were often times where I drew into myself, and sat there thinking, and then having to force myself to engage, because putting on an act for them makes them happy, and if I care about them I should stop being selfish and do it.

Selfish. It's such an ugly word and a term I apply to myself often. This is something for another long entry, but being selfish scares me.

So, for myself, I don't know if its better to be fake or not. For the people around me, they say it makes their lives easier if I am.

So I guess I just have to wait for Christmas and see how that holiday goes. It can't be any worse than last year. Impossible.

knock. on. wood.