L    ike many others, I'm getting ready for the holidays. I'm getting ready to go home.

Not the place I call "home" today – I'm leaving this home for my parent's home, the town I was born and raised in. Same house, even. I'll be staying in my old bedroom, with the pastel curtains and frilly little girl furniture I grew up with. I've always hated that room. But for 4 days next week, it'll be my refuge.

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Just like the old days, when I was a sullen teenager hoping to god that there was something more to life than the pointless plastic 'burbs. Next week I'll be sitting cross-legged on my old twin bed, listening to radio stations that begin with a "W" and knowing what exists beyond those walls. Knowing that I can and will get out, move on, grow up.