I'm feeling rather weird. (?) No, not weird. I'm just feeling...feelings. I'm a creature of feelings. Or something like that.
I just suck at elaborating on my feelings. It's a waste, Princess.
I'm ready to go home. I'm ready to spend Christmas with my family. My family. This year I won't feel like I'm intruding on someone else's family. This year I won't have to fake happiness with a smile that doesn't mean anything; this year I won't have to be fake. This year I'll sleep in my own bed, in the house I grew up in, and wake up to my brother's face peeking around the door like he does every year. I'll pretend like I want to go back to sleep, holding back the excitement, but deep down where it counts, I'll catalog the memory and smile (and mean it).
Christmas with my family...
I'm ready to go home.