Into my heart an air that kills
From yon far country blows:
What are those blue remembered hills,
What spires, what farms are those?

That is the land of lost content,
I see it shining plain,
The happy highways where I went
And cannot come again.
-- A.E. Housman

I can't decide if I'm feeling melancholy because of the winter weather, or because of certain things that go along with being home (seeing certain people), or both. Probably both. Either way, it's kind of funny how you can think you've laid things to rest, only to realize later on that you're really not as good at that as you though you were and some things will always be with you. Basically, I feel like I'm going to jump out of my skin.
Also, this break is going by too quickly.