Let’s call it…. home.

It’s been months since I walked the halls of Kenwood.  It’s been weeks since I’ve seen my best friend.  And it’s been days since I’ve made out with you.

I loathed the lasting moments I had left in Clarksville.  Goals and aspirations I had left created feelings of resentment.  Resentment over the fact I had chosen to leave.  I understand why… I do.  Hell.  I’d like to go back right now if I could.  There is still SO much I’d like to do.   So many things I’ve taken for granted, and so many things I could do if I were there.  But… the world doesn’t work like this.  As much as I’d like to go back in time knowing everything I know now….  the world continues to turn and turn.  And time’s never ending, relentless, goddamn self…. just keeps moving forward.

My present doesn’t feel like a gift right now.  It only feels like I’m masking the fact that I’ve started over.  And though each day is filled with laughter, smiles, and adventures…. I look up from my computer and see a collage of pictures of the memories that were once the moments I dearly loved.

The Merriam-Webster Dictionary defines the word homesick as “longing for home and family while absent from them.”  As much as I fucking hated that damn black hole of a town the world calls Clarksville, I guess it was home.  And I’m not in “Kansas” anymore.  I’m in this wonderful place called Oz.  Filled with lovable characters and life long friends I’m starting to really grow fond of.  But like Dorothy, I still do want to go home.  I want to see my friends and family, because when I was there – I never made enough time for family, and I never had the time to see and hang with the friends I call my family.

But this post isn’t just about my wishful thinking.  I don’t want you to think I hate this place.  I don’t.  It just takes some time to get used to it.  And I am starting to feel like this could be home.  I like it here.  I do.   But the night’s I spend in my ghastly top bunk bed – I can’t help but think of the memories.  And I can’t help but think of you.

But I suppose the memories are always sweeter.

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