falling dreams

I'm in the airport waiting to fly home. From home. I don't really have a perspective yet on which of the places I live is "home." School is home because I live there most, I have a family of friends and a dreamy life there... but home where my parents raised me is viscerally still my home. It's actually a little bit frightening how easy it is for me to just slip into living in my hometown. I thought it would be kind of hard. Really, though, it's frighteningly easy. Its almost as though I don't live elsewhere, and I literally can't go anywhere without seeing at least two people that I know. The anonymity of living in the city is something I've really been embracing. It's part of really being myself in a new place, I think.

I'm supposed to be working on reading the Aeneid. Seriously, though, I understand that it's really important beautiful literature but.... guh. It's frankly a bit boring at times. And confusing because Virgil took the works of Homer, put them in a blender, poured them out onto a roman tablet and then called it a new epic poem. My brain feels a little blended just reading it.

My flight isn't for another three and a half hours. God save me.