Our room is the only place this side of the country that feels like home, and is the only place where I feel wanted. I can come home and have the luxury of being surrounded by people who actually notice that I have just entered the room. It is enough to make me never want to leave. On one hand, I am happy because I feel fortunate to have found such wonderful friends, but then I feel sad because I remember that they are so few in number and so narrowly confined to one space. Being back and staying in the room these past few weeks has made me forget that I am not as important to the rest of the world. I cannot venture out and take it for granted that my presence will have any significance whatsoever, because then I will just be left in the cold and reminded that no, it does not.
I need to figure out who actually gives a shit about me and focus my efforts on them. I waste too much time and too much grief caring about everyone I know, who could hardly do less to reciprocate. I forget that there is a significant minority, right here at home, who are the only people who should actually matter. So, I love my roommates and only my roommates.
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