Confession.

I like it here, I do. I like being close to everything. I love the house itself.

But I want to go home.

I miss my friends just walking in the front door like they own the place.
I miss the small-town feeling, with Dollar Generals everywhere you look.
I miss friends being close enough to stop by, even if no one ever did.
I miss family being close. Close enough for game nights. I miss game nights.
I miss eating cheese dip and chips and drinking margaritas while the kids play on the ghetto playground that probably should have been torn down years ago because it's falling apart.
I miss feeling like I was where I was supposed to be. For now, anyway.

I can't tell him though. He asks me and says to tell him the truth, but I just can't. Because then he would do what he always does, which is find a way to make it happen, and I love him for that, for always wanting to make me happy. But going back is not what he wants or at least I think. I don't think he really knows what he wants yet. He deserves to be happy, more-so than I do. He's the one that makes all the money that pays for everything. If he wants to stay over here, then we should. He does so much for me, for all of us, and if he wants to stay here, then I can do this much for him.