So, I spent the weekend at my love's house.
I can't pick things out as easily this time. All the other times, I was able to pick out certain times that were perfect and certain times that were disastrous, etc. It's harder this time. I guess because this is the first time it really felt real. From the moment I met him at the train station until the moment I left, it felt right. Not that it's felt wrong in the past, but I used to get pretty nervous and feel so surreal. This time, I felt home. I had this feeling like this was where I belonged. My house isn't my home, it seems. With him is where I should live. It's where I feel the safest, and where I feel like I don't have to hide away anything or keep anything inside. I guess this is the first time I've had that comfort, and I love it.
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