Who needs a drink?

I woke up this morning with a slight pain in the back left side of my throat. Panic ensued.

I am going home tomorrow. I'm going to work work work my ass off over the span of three days, helping my momma fix up her place as much as I can.

Going home is never an easy venture for me. Well, there's the drive, the long excruciatingly boring drive down there. My car is pretty old. Someone once told me that I should be thankful for every mile I get out of that car from now on.

Allergens assault my body every time I go home. The pollution hits my lungs and doesn't let up until I've trekked back to Dallas, and then stayed there for at least two or three months. I've never been so sick. So this soreness hiding out in the back of my throat right now is really only foreshadowing.

Then there is the stress, the stress that I suppose every young person (maybe even old person) goes through when they go home. I love my family, I really do, but there's some comfort in knowing that five hours of interstate, farms, and small towns separate us. It's kind of crazy, but every time I'm about to go home, I get the worst anxiety attacks, when I get there I go through some major depression, and when I return to Dallas I feel drained from the visit, but very relieved. Is it possible that I'm the only one that feels this way about going home?

But the family doesn't understand all of this.

And they miss me, and I miss them.


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