Apr 2017
I miss home.
Maybe it’s the feeling of quiet in the night, how the air seemingly stands still, the silent cricketing of… crickets singing their symphony of the night
Maybe it’s the gentle breeze that graces you through the hot endless summer of the tropics
Maybe it’s nothing more than the endless stream of tricycles drag racing down city streets.
Regardless I miss home.
This place is beautiful.
This place, with the massive stream of culture flowing from every part of the world
This place, with it’s beautiful, clean air, and tap water so clean you could drink directly from it
This place, with the promise of something better - a life full of opportunity
Honestly, this place is amazing. This place to one may seem like paradise.
I’m not one to disregard my blessings, and living here, it is one, but this place lacks one thing.
It lacks family.
This place, in all it’s beauty and it’s cultural mish mash, lacks all the people I wish I could explore it with.
This place, with all it’s opportunity and promises, lacks the people I wish could have a part of it.
This place, though bewildering, endless, and… different, lacks the people i wish to share it with.
Often my heart goes home.
Often my heart flutters off of my chest as I lay face up at night, and takes me to another life.
A life full of what ifs.
What if I didn’t leave.
What if things turned out differently
What if they came with us
What if. What if. What if.
My mind drifts into this hulking chasm, one which the end of it stretches farther than the echo in which I use, curiously trying to finding the end.
The friends I would have made. The bonds I would have connected, severed, connected, and perhaps severed again.
The lessons I would have learned. The mistakes, shortcomings, failures, and perhaps even the way I dealt with them. How different it would have been.
My hair style. My taste in music. Hell, even my skin color.
And as I lie in that bed I start to miss something. Something that was never mine in the first place. I start to miss that life that I never led, the path that has long closed itself to me.
I desperately want it, but desperately don’t. Caught in a cycle of would have been, should have been, never was, and never ever will be.
Nevertheless, though the memories were never made, the bonds that were meant to be are still there, and I’ll cherish them until the day both paths converge again.
I miss home.
Maybe it’s the feeling of quiet in the night, how the air seemingly stands still, the silent cricketing of… crickets singing their symphony of the night
Maybe it’s the gentle breeze that graces you through the hot endless summer of the tropics
Maybe it’s nothing more than the endless stream of tricycles drag racing down city streets.
Regardless I miss home.
This place is beautiful.
This place, with the massive stream of culture flowing from every part of the world
This place, with it’s beautiful, clean air, and tap water so clean you could drink directly from it
This place, with the promise of something better - a life full of opportunity
Honestly, this place is amazing. This place to one may seem like paradise.
I’m not one to disregard my blessings, and living here, it is one, but this place lacks one thing.
It lacks family.
This place, in all it’s beauty and it’s cultural mish mash, lacks all the people I wish I could explore it with.
This place, with all it’s opportunity and promises, lacks the people I wish could have a part of it.
This place, though bewildering, endless, and… different, lacks the people i wish to share it with.
Often my heart goes home.
Often my heart flutters off of my chest as I lay face up at night, and takes me to another life.
A life full of what ifs.
What if I didn’t leave.
What if things turned out differently
What if they came with us
What if. What if. What if.
My mind drifts into this hulking chasm, one which the end of it stretches farther than the echo in which I use, curiously trying to finding the end.
The friends I would have made. The bonds I would have connected, severed, connected, and perhaps severed again.
The lessons I would have learned. The mistakes, shortcomings, failures, and perhaps even the way I dealt with them. How different it would have been.
My hair style. My taste in music. Hell, even my skin color.
And as I lie in that bed I start to miss something. Something that was never mine in the first place. I start to miss that life that I never led, the path that has long closed itself to me.
I desperately want it, but desperately don’t. Caught in a cycle of would have been, should have been, never was, and never ever will be.
Nevertheless, though the memories were never made, the bonds that were meant to be are still there, and I’ll cherish them until the day both paths converge again.
I miss home.
