Home again, home again, jiggity-jigg.

I've returned home. I've been trying to get back here since before my recital, but it's just never worked out. So, a month later, I'm back. Of course, it's nice to be back. Everyone's glad to see me, and it's nice to relax after all the hard work.

Only it's not really about relaxing. As much as I want to talk about it, I don't want to talk about it. Enough to say that one of my brothers is in a long struggle with himself, and I and my family have to content ourselves with cheering from the sidelines.

My friends have guessed that I've been up and down about something. Now you see why finishing my recital didn't help aleviate my discomfort. Why finishing the research papers didn't help. I wanted to cancel my recital. I wanted to leave town the next day. I wanted to do anything, so long as it wasn't nothing. But nothing turned out to be the best idea. So, I sat on my hands for a while.

Now, as graduating people talk about changes and moving on towards different directions in life, it's a bit of a shock to find myself thinking about someone's life that doesn't change, that doesn't move on, that seems to hold no future promises. And there's nothing left for anyone to do but be patient and have a hold on hope.

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