I am sitting in the same bedroom I have had for the past 16 years,
staring at the same ceiling with glow in the dark stars plastered on it,
playing with the same ugly blanket my grandma gave me 7 years ago,
and hearing the same train whistles that used to drive me crazy.
Nothing around me has changed,
and yet I am homesick.
I am homesick not for a place,
but for a person.
I am homesick for the person I used to be,
or maybe for the person I will soon be.