I opened my bible tonight…the one I got from a retreat when I was in high school.

I remember that retreat so well. How spiritual it was, how close my bond was to God, and the instant connection everyone had with each other and how everyone was there for each other.

I miss that. I miss going to weekend retreats fully devoted to the Lord surrounded by people that were my age just as passionate.

It seems like being that passionate here is taboo. It’s like once you move out the serious test is if you can go to church without your parents forcing you or even mention the Lord in a conversation.

I feel so out of place here sometimes

to have some dipndots…

By Richard Marx will ALWAYS make me tear up a little

I vent. I’ll give someone a call, meet them somewhere, sit with them in mine or their car, talk, cry, and hopefully feel better.

I can’t do that here. I don’t have many friends…and the less than a handful that I have I don’t feel like I can run to them like I can with my family and best friends back home. And I feel like the hubby just gets tired of me being upset about the same thing (even if he doesn’t)

I’ve already come to the conclusion that southern hospitality doesn’t exist here. And that it’s really south eastern hospitality…complete culture shock for someone who is used to making friends instantly. There’s not many friendly people you’ll run into and the ones that seem friendly turn out to be the exact opposite. People here need to take lessons from some of the people back in Florida…I’m going to drive myself nuts here.

I need a best friend that I can see, hug, hold, laugh with, do nothing with, talk to, run to walmart with, and heck to just have a marathon of some tv show with.

I miss you. All of you.

Why must I be so close to my mom that it makes me so sad knowing that I’m leaving her once again. This visit meant the world to me.

They forgot to mention how much it can hurt…