so i don't really have it out for anyone but man, nigel is the biggest coward i've come in contact with. he can't even look a person straight in the eye in fear that they will realize (which they do) that all he speaks is untruths - cruel ones, at that. and it makes me feel queasy to know that i cannot simply leave something 'desirable' on the kitchen counter for but 5 minutes without someone abusing the fact that it is everyone's house, but that not everything is communal. it's common sense and it disgusts me. and this is why i've found myself returning from my beautiful excursion in the mountains, tearing up like a school girl. because home is not a 4 bedroom bungalow in the suburbs, or bathrooms suited with jacuzzi tubs or even your sweetest bedroom decor that without, you are not.. it's the love that flows through the rooms, that travels under the doors even when bolted shut and that is continuous. my expressions lay strewn across my floor, spread across my ceiling and carved into my mellow cubicle. and when i shut the door, i suppose i could call this home. but this unreasonable situation has me feelin' like nothing that is mine means a damn thing. nothing i cherish means anything when i'm stuck here.