It’s not that this place seems like home. There was a rush of relaxation when I swung open the door and faced the blank pale beige walls and hideous sticker-tiled floor. It wasn’t home because it wasn’t that feeling of right, that feeling of sliding into a warm bed on a cool night. I was simply overtaken by a sudden blow of familiarity that disguised itself as comfort, and would later torment me into tears when I fully realized where I was.

I’m back in Brooklyn.

I’m all alone, as usual, trapped in these walls, as usual. Don’t get me wrong, I cherished living with Grayson and Emma’s a fine girl, they weren’t causing me this heavy unhappiness. It was the space, the physical boundaries, the limitations of the rooms I locked myself in every night. That was a realization too, that in locking out all the thieves, murderers, and gangsters, I succeeded in putting myself in a dungeon rather than limiting them to theirs.

I am living in this apartment, but at what cost? Three hundred and seventy-five dollars to know I can’t go out by myself when it gets dark. Three hundred and seventy-five dollars to be afraid of every man who walks past me hiding his face. Three hundred and seventy-five dollars to have no one to talk to or simply be silent with except for Grayson and Emma. Three hundred and seventy-five dollars to lose my mind with every turn of the lock.

Adding it up, the cost doesn’t seem worth it. I don’t want to live in a place I can’t live in. That’s what was so beautiful about home, about Texas. No matter what time it is, I can hop in my car and be somewhere new, see someone new. Sure I get scared and lock my door tight because I’m a naturally paranoid person, but I succeed in locking them out and not me in. There is a crucial difference. I can leave, and still lock them out by hopping in a car or meeting up with friends.

And this really isn’t anything like a home. I’ve thrown the word out there a few times to make Grayson happy, but this isn’t home. He reminds me of it. I’m temporary. I’m a traveler. I’ll be gone in a week and won’t return for months. I don’t have a solid piece of ground to stand on.

But, then again, I can’t live my life in fear. I can’t just sit back and fall into what is comfortable. That’s no way to change. This has certainly been a learning experience.