I told my family about you. It's hard for me to talk to anyone these days, but I did it...I tried my very best, and for reasons as they go, you were all I could manage to hold in conversation. My sister wants to meet you. She can tell I've changed--my mind or my manor...just something--and she wants to see who's done it. She's always been quite sensitive to these subtle things, more so than the others, and she knew right away I had changed, and you were the one who did it to me.

I miss you so much. I'm home--I guess that's what I should call it...my family all lives here, but I never have, and it's never truly felt like home to me--but I'd rather be with you. I'm so torn! I feel guilt and sadness and joy like I've never felt before all at the same time. I want to spend time with my family because I see them so rarely now while at school, and I hate missing the kids grow up because they are indeed growing so fast--too fast--but at the same time, I cannot pass through a single moment without thinking about you and that time when I will see your face again and embrace your person like I wish to now and every second. It makes me sad that we are not together, that you are not here to cuddle on this bed like you are back at school, that I'd rather be somewhere else with you than here with my family now. I'm a terrible son and a horrible brother, but I know deep down where it really matters that I'd rather be where you are...where we were. In the South, where I felt alive, where sickness never bothered me, where I felt warmth when the Sun shined and not shame, where I felt home at last, there with you. But no, instead I'm here in the dreadful north...where sickness breaks my back and kicks me while I'm down, where guilt and shame count my days and exhaustion kills me quicker. I love my family, I've missed them so much, but I know they are stronger than me and need not my smile to fight back the weather. I must return back South. I must find you. I'll meet you there, at school, at home, my home, our home. My home.