11.1.17

I love my friends here.
I love our nights spent in someone's dorm, unfamiliar music blasting, laughs circulating all of us.
I love our expeditions to dinner together where we stare at meals in unsurprised disgust.
I love our ability to make memories and jokes out of the littlest things.
But there are some nights where I retreat back to my own dorm, close the door behind me, and long for my friends from home; nights where I begin to question where exactly home is and what it means.
Is home where the people you love are?
Is it still home if the people don't love me back?
Is home here? Or is home still them?

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