This Is How It Goes.

I've been sitting here in the exact same spot and pretty soon this cushion will have my rear written all over it. Watching videos on YouTube of my long-lost home. I'm meloncholy and cold. How does one describe it, this feeling I have? I remember excitement coupled with fear and anxiety. The damp air and the burning back. I remember the sleepless nights, the tears I cried, and the miles I walked. Oh but the sounds and the sights, the familiarity. The people, the cobblestones, the never-ending supply of hot brewed tea. I imagine myself sitting there in my room, at the kitchen table, on the sofa with a book, walking to church each Sunday night; I want that back.

Life's full of choices aye? Wish I could have it all. Wish I could find myself holding onto that pole on bus number 7, climbing that same large hill, and coming home. Guess I'll never be the same. It's so hard to let go...