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Excerpt from my Journal, December 9, 2006

My room is warm, the kind of warmth that when it hits you it makes you sleepy and relaxed. I open the door and its cold and harsh, words fly from my parents mouths matching the atmosphere. Retreat back into my warm, the safe kind of sleepy place where I can stay and feel safe even though I know that behind my bedroom door on the other side, it is not safe. I come to this warmth, when things get too cold outside and I can see my breath. I can see the words fly out of my parents mouth, harsh and cold as the ice covers the house.

Out in the world there are places where it is freezing and places where it is warm. Places you are welcomed and places you are not. Your home is a place where you are supposed to be welcomed, supposed to be loved and treated with kindness and respect. Thats how they depict it on television, especially with the holidays coming up and all the movies they show. Making me nostalgic and sad whishing I had memories like the ones in the movies. How everything just sort of comes together and everyone loves eachother.

When I get to college, things will be like that. Surround myself with good people, form a family of sorts and possibly go to friends houses on the holidays if it can be done. Make a new family. A safe one. A warm one.