Protected: Comming home


Today driving home from Brienne’s house for the first time since last year I noticed how all the feelings that I used to get had expired. Seeing Brienne be greeted by her family, and seeing her excitement was like seeing the reflection of myself a year ago. I recall being super excited about returning home. There was always the train trips where for 4-5 hours all I did was think of home. There was the family greeting and dinner where we catched on odd pieces of conversation and happenings. And finally there was seeing Brienne. None of these things are quite the same this year.

To return home is like never finished a major chord. It begs to be concluded, but I always leave before it even has a chance to strike the final tone. I feel like an alian in this city. I have so many memories while driving up and down the local roads, but all seem to far and distant to reinvigorate any feeling in coming home. And there are so many memories too, a shame they all go to waste.

Home will never be the same as it was. Perhaps this is a transition we all make because let’s be honest, coming home once a month to your parents house is not something most adults do. The more interesting thing however is: should I be feeling this transition, or is there something going wrong with how I choose to live my life?