Is it weird that I think of my little apartment in Austin as home? I mean, my parents house is still home, but more of a childhood home. On my way back from the airport I was breathing in the warm Texas air and I exclaimed how good it felt to be home. My friend found that strange - that I considered this home after only 6 months. I think it's because it's mine. This is the first place that has been completely mine. I am on my own, alone, by myself. Ok, that may sound a little depressing, but it's heaven to me. I am my own home.
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