It’s surreal being on this site again after five, six years on Reddit. I’ve walked into my childhood home with moving boxes, a place I thought I’d outgrown yet so steeped in familiarity and drenched in memory that I feel I should know every cobweb. But someone’s cleaned up while I’ve been away, applied fresh paint. The cabinet with the old CRT is gone, and in the living room the ‘mid-century’ has been dropped from ‘modern.’ The blog I used to keep has been lost, a diary tossed when my parents’ cleaned out my old room, and I’m still standing here box in hand trying to figure out how to unpack.

_I’m home,_ I think, but the conscious self has yet to catch up, and I pine for a space to once again call my own.