Maybe cities are a lot like relationships, if it’s not meant to be, it will never feel right, it will never feel like home, it will never work no matter how hard you try.
It is hard to know what the future holds; where we will be years from now. What I do know is that the well-known saying, “Home is where the heart is,” rings truer and truer to me as each year passes.
Home once used to be a place, not
just the absence of memory.
You are the person I want to love unconditionally.
Please remember that the memories that trigger you do not represent who you are in the current moment.
I came home after class one day and found the bathroom door smashed to pieces. Slivers of wood scattered across the tile.
But today is today. You’re beginning to wake up.
I was your home, your shield, your companion–but look at you now, walking away, with suitcases in your hand.
It is bitterly ironic, that we must leave behind what we will one day wish to come back to, that we must go search for something that will ultimately lead us back home.
The feeling of coming home after a long trip is weird. You’re happy and sad at the same time. You can’t wait to get back into a routine, but you’re also dreading it.