Here I am, back at college. I was... nervous at first? No, nervous isn't the right word. Apprehensive. That's the word. I'm so worried that now that I'm here, everything will fal apart back home. Fall apart with my family. Fall apart with my boyfriend. Is he even my boyfriend? I asked him the other night. Point blank. "Are you my boyfriend?" Know what he said? "I dunno. Am I?" I wanted to strangle him. And then he goes on this spill about he wants to take it slower this time around. Slower? Slower means not having neighbor-waking, cops getting called sex every other night. Slowers means not basically living with him on weekends and not moving in at all during the summer. I can't be his weekend girlfriend and his summer fling. I won't. I have more self-respect than that. I'm worth more than that!

Yeah, I keep telling myself that. I believe it's true. I know it's true. So why isn't it making me feel better?

One way or the other, I'm back all snug in my dorm room. Don't know how long it'll last though. My roommate got kicked out of our dorm for her low GPA. I got into the freshman honors dorm. It's kind of a big deal. Well so she's gone and now I've got find another roommate before they stick me with a single room fee.

And I just don't know. I just don't whether I want to be here or to be home. Because I really don't want to be in either.

I used to have a Xanga. I used to have a Facebook. I used to have a MySpace. One was a journal where no one knew me in real life, so their judgements were probably more true than any of my real world friends. One was just a gossip forum where everything was lies and cover-ups and ridiculous heartbreak. And one I just didn't pay attention to at all and eventually got deleted without my even knowing. And now I'm back. I graduated high school and ran away to Colorado with a boyfriend I knew didn't love me into a situation I knew would be bad. I came back home to a father that still doesn't understand me, a mother that still likes the Army more than me, an older sister that still wants to be 19 again more than she loves her two daughters, and a little sister just hitting puberty and it's easier to hate me. So I ran away to college. I was beginning to think that there was no where in the world I was meant to be, but college proved me wrong.

Suddenly I'm with a thousand people exactly like me in the fact that they're not like me at all. Exactly like me because they're not like anyone else. They're only them. There are posers. There are pot heads. There are jocks and preps and bitches. And that's just who they are. It's not as simple as that of course. It never is. But I've survived my first semester, and the only ones that made it hard were my family. Well, them and an indecicive 24-year-old, father of two tireboy that can't seem to decide if he loves me or not, but that's a whole other story.

I will tell you how I feel about this man though, because he's the main reason I've restarted my Xanga. Because right now, he's the main reason for everything. He's the reason I can't sleep. Can't think. Can barely breath. I feel like I go through every day holding my breath, walking on broken glass. Staring through an icy fog that won't let me find my way. And it's him. It's just him. So why stick with a guy that's causing me so much stress? Because there's nothing like his arms around me. There's nothing like his breath against my skin. His heartbeat beneath my ear. There's nothing like the shrieks of joy from his boys when I walk in the door. Sappy right? Pitifully mushy right? Story of my life.

My mom wanted me to join the military. My father wanted me to get married. My grandpa wanted me to be a missionary. So I went to college. I could marry a doctor's son there tomorrow. But I love the tireboy. Don't tell him though. Love scares him. Terrifies him. It terrifies me too. Don't tell him that either. He can't know I'm not the strong one.