Take Me Home

"Books loved anyone who opened them, they gave you security and friendship and didn't ask for anything in return; they never went away, never, not even when you treated them badly." - Cornelia Funke, Inkheart

Here at Wheaton College, it's not that there aren't people.  It's not that I don't like the people I'm around or that the people I'm around don't like me.  In fact, I'm in a wonderful environment full of wonderful people doing wonderful things all while "actively pursuing intentional community." But it's lonely. It's lonely because none of them are truly my friends.  It's lonely because during the past two weeks I've constantly had to pay attention to my appearance, and I haven't been able to stop thinking about my behavior:  what I've said and done and what I should have said and done.  It's lonely because everyday I'm meeting at least three new people and trying to remember the names of all the people I met the day before.  It's lonely because the conversations seem never to move beyond "Hi, what's your major? Where do you live?  What were your classes today? What do you like best about Wheaton?"

And most of all, it's lonely because I can never go home.

It's not so much that I'm missing my physical home, but rather that I miss having a home.  Here at Wheaton, I don't really have a home.  There is no where on campus where I feel truly and completely comfortable.  And so, in the absence of a physical home, I've had to turn to my virtual home.  Perhaps it's not healthy to feel out of place in reality and at home in books, but maybe I'm not as emotionally healthy as I'd like to think.  The truth is, when I pick up Ender's Game and reread it, or The True Confessions of Charlotte Doyle or Inkheart I feel at home.  It's hard to explain, and I wouldn't believe it if I didn't experience it, but I feel like I know the characters.  They're my friends.  These books are a place where I have memories, safely preserved and easily accessible.  It's not so much that I want to live in these stories all the time, but rather that they provide an escape from the constant homelessness I experience when on campus here.  I know that sounds pathetic and kind of weird, but I don't know if I could do this otherwise.  Having books for a home makes being away from home more... bearable?

Someday, I think Wheaton will become home.  I really think it will.  But until then I'll have my books, and I'll have my journals, and with some soft music playing in the background, I think I can make that my home for the time being.