I do not want to go.
That one sentence has so much behind it. And I'm too tired to articulate it. But I think you Know. And I'll be elaborating on it... probably tomorrow, as I'll be in airports and airplanes from 9 to 5.
I am supposed to be here.
It has felt like this is my life. And I have to go back to not-my-life.
And I am feeling very resentful of that.
If it wasn't for my Spooky coming to visit, I wouldn't go back. I have enough offers of long-term crashspace (yes, where long-term = months) that I could just stay. (No, Spooky, don't blame yourself/worry - I should be going back to Atlanta.)
This is where I'm supposed to be, and I'm not the only one who damnwell knows it. Bloody hell.
Must shower. Must pack. Am upset. Am sleepdepped and feeling like a kindergartener stomping her boots and yelling "No! I don't wanna go! You can't make me!"
...yeah. That sums it up.