12:22.

I want to go home.

Why does this thought still pop up in my head, even come out of my mouth so often?

At times, it's a mute whisper. Others, a sigh to God. It's like one of those scroll by tags on sites that move from left to right saying something like "buy me now", moving seemingly in and out of the screen but always there.

For some reason, I found it hard to get to sleep last night.

It felt like something was wrong somewhere and I couldn't be sure what. I tossed, I turned, I heard my Mom had a minor nightmare and make a small scream. I prayed, I spoke in tongues, I tossed, I turned.

Maybe it was and is the warmth. Maybe, but I fell asleep with a headache and woke up with a headache.

I miss home.

I'm unreasonable, not always sane, sometimes really happy, other times not as. I know, I know.

Dad, I need to feel that undeniable purpose for living. Besides knowing, I need to feel it too.

There must be more than this.

Otherwise, somebody kill me please.