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Feeding the homesickness

home.
if you have been gone for some time
its hard to remember
exactly
what home is.
 
the smell. so fresh. comforting.
home is the sounds of my family bickering
it can be so lovely for my ears to hear!
how i miss them so.
 
brave, they said i was brave.
free, adventurous. a bit of a gypsy.
but i wonder, is it brave to leave the place you love
—the people you love?
or is it cowardice?
 
in leaving this place,
this home of mine
it feels like, I’ve hurt everyone,
everyone that matters.
everyone who’s made me.
i wish i had not done so.
 
and if i come back?
will it still be the same?
for i am not the same,
the world has changed me
i am stronger.
thicker. almost bitter.
 
the memories i have are ones i want to keep.
memories so sweet are that of home!
especially when you are far from it.
sweeter still when the road ahead
has grown dull.
 
but memories sometimes trick.
what if the sweetness in my memories
are of made up things?
was it really so lovely?
surely there were bad times
but my childish dreams has
erased all the bad.
 
which is why i can’t go back.
i can’t spoil my dreams
of this place i remember so dearly
with this unpleasant reality.
i need to keep this place in my head a little longer.
i wont go back.
not yet.

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