the day of

i wandered through my parent's house
that i spent 18 years living in
as if i was visiting for the first time,
every room familiar, but foreign.

it was in the dining room,
memories of thanksgivings,
that i broke down
and began to sob.

packed luggage and boxes surrounded me
as the coming reality of college
and a change to my way of life
caught up to me after a lazy summer.

three months spent alone,
in the midst of an addiction
that pushed away old friends
and the possibility of new ones.

and now, over 10 years later,
i'm left wondering whether
my "best years" are those i miss,
or those i missed completely.