Do you remember how the summer days use to blur together until it came to the point where you forgot what day of the week it was?

As the second month of college is halfway through everything is dizzy and blurring like a drunk man trying to act sober. Chaotic but staying silent and appearing unmoving.

It's past the point where homesickness churns your stomach whenever you may have smelled a mirage of mom's cooking, or saw one of the many dogs on campus that makes you miss yours even more.

Eyes gloss over. You lower your head back to the desk and scribble what you can hear the professor lecturing past your subconscious as daydreams take over.

Between home and haziness why does it feel like you are walking on a tightrope? The constant feeling that you have left something behind in your room on your bed when it really was who you used to be.

The first month of college consisted of masked first impressions and an eraser as most seem to start from scratch. Black out the files of the past and into the shredder.

Every mirror reflects someone who have yet to meet. This caricature has different eyes, rimmed with sleepiness, different lips, new hues that taste of every weekend and resonate a humming bass.

Between home and haziness, the four walls of solitude have been blown to bits. And as you stumble back to new covers you create a home in dining halls and library cubicles.

Your library stored away in memory and memorization.

Your fireplace in determination and winter jackets and sunny days.

Your lawn stored in scraped knees and bruises.

Your love stored in thrill and fear, holding onto others as you all walk on this tightrope.

Your new home lies in the trust of a stranger you're hesitant to let in as your old relationship with the past has packed their bags and their bus has left with them and you can't even see that.

Between home and haziness, adjust your eyes to the light and see how you can decorate your new home inside your changing.