Yes, I am alive. You might have thought that I was dead and perhaps you even shed a tear for me but I am not dead. I am simply at my parents' house.
I like coming here. It is nice. Meals are made for me, stuff is clean, I can sleep all hours of the days because as far as my parents know, gaining my liberal arts degree was quite taxing on my brain. It is nice. it was even nice to not go on the computer for a couple of days. I didn't bring my laptop home and I have been leaving my cell phone in my basement so I don't have the ability to communicate with people as I usually do. I have been incommunicado for a bit, which was nice, but I just felt the urge today to be online.
The only thing that bothers me about being online at my parents house is that the size of my parents sizing on the monitor is so big it hurts my eyes. Regular web pages don't display correctly and certain things don't load. Even as I type this the letters are at least half an inch large. In res ponce I feel very tiny.
I also become reclusive when I come to my childhood home. I don't like to leave it. I had to go to the bank today and it took me like a half hour to build up the strength to leave. It is worrisome. I picture myself as someday being eccentric recluse in manner of Edith Bouvier (has anyone seen the trailer for Grey Gardens? Drew Barrymore sure looks like she has a toothache) where my only friends will be the animals and feces that I share my home with.