home sweet home

there's something about being home that makes me not really care about many things. it has this very subtle cleansing and healing quality that makes me feel like everything will be alright. no matter what. which seems awesome, and it is awesome, to a point. it is starting to get to where i almost care too little. about anything. i come home and everything, all the loud noises in my brain, all the fast paced life around me, all the pressing things that used to stress me out, become mute, like in the movies when a grenade explodes next to the hero and his hearing is gone for 2 minutes, but the action is still going on around him. home is that grenade for me. all the worries are put on mute, but unfortunately, that doesn't mean they are gone.
i have, for better or worse, subconsciously made pella my retreat from reality. Pella: a retreat from reality. (ive already copy written it so back off) but seriously, i come home, already have my old job waiting for me, my same friend group is still around from last summer, i play soccer 3 times a week, i see my brothers and family everyday, and i have what seems to be an unlimited amount of chill. but for some reason everything seems off by a smidgen.
i feel like i have already worn out my welcome home. i started to become complacent at work, and justifiably so, i was put back in check by my manager, who also happens to be a good friend. its hard to disappoint any boss, but when you happen to be close with him too, the disappointment is shared with myself, for myself. i get to see my friends every single night, which would be awesome, and mostly is, but we are quickly running out of things to do on a given night, and there have been many wasted hours sitting around a tv asking each other what were gonna do next. soccer is great, but it is only pick up ball, and most of the people that play are either rusty, over the hill, or too far under the hill to even really know how to play the sport (boot ball and running fast is not, in fact, soccer) i do get to see my fam, but its always extremely rushed, and i have yet to actually sit down and eat with more then one or two of them at a time. never has the family gotten together wholesale. as for the chill, well, i am quickly realizing that while maybe its awesome, and makes things better temporarily, even peter pan has to grow up some time, and being able to fly to the clouds does not mean that the world below is going to disappear, or change to the way i wish it was. my escapes, it seems, are quickly turning their backs on me, and making me face reality in a way i have never done so before. alone.
its definitely a turning point in my life, one that has turned too damn sharp, and going at speeds far surpassing the limit written on the signs. but it seems, that is the way life goes, and you either deal with it, or let it take you down. unfortunately the quicksand has dragged me pretty damn low, and is even threatening to steal my horse Artax. i guess it seems cheesy, but if there is anything i learned from the neverending story is that when your sinking in the mud, the more depressed you get, the deeper you go, and obviously if you continue the trail, staying positive, knowing that you have to save the princess and rescue the fantasy world from the nothingness, then you will be ok. and sooner then later you'll be flying on a luck dragon and chasing the bullies that led you into the school attic in the first place.

moral of the story, stay posi motherfuckers. and this will be yours.