November 19, 2005 - 6:42 p.m. I don't know why I do it, but every time I come home I fall apart shortly after arriving. I don't know if maybe I'm just letting down the last thin layer of the mask everyone wears in public, the last layer that even school does not get to see beneath. Maybe I just realize that I've been so tired and sick in my soul of being a grown up and being new that coming home is a relief. Or perhaps when I come home I am mourning the loss of childhood, praying that feeling like a child in my home will not expire like everything else. Maybe I cry because I'm so happy that there is one place in the world where everyone cares and no one minds, one place where life is constant or normal. Going home is not simple. But it had been entirely too long for me this time. ...before & after...