I flew back to school hours later.
It had began to feel suffocating in that house. I realized I wasn't in the right headspace to spend an entire weekend there. Not this time.
Nobody there wanted me.
And I couldn't stomach that fact. This time, I couldn't push through like I usually did; pretending I was fine, ignoring the thick air of tension, forcing them to acknowledge my presence like I was some invisible ghost they could no longer look through.
I had laid in my bed for some time. Maybe minutes. Or hours. I couldn't tell how long I'd been curled up in the darkness of my room.
All I did was reminisce about good times in the Gulf mansion.
Until now, I thought my years there had given me only scars. That all I could account for were bad memories, moments I had tucked away like broken glass, slicing my hand every time I tried to hold them.
I was wrong.
There had been good moments too. Moments that made my heart ache for what could have been.
