A new year. Going back home again after months of being away. Turns out I don't feel like that place is home anymore. ~bartender, a beer, please. Time to let it all go for a bit and just enjoy the view of a city that I got used to so quickly.
Home, at least where it should be, doesn't feel the same anymore. I guess the dust did set in. The ambitions that built up over two decades finally decided to make them visible. The place doesn't feel hollow, but it is a shell over its former glory. Maybe it's the new horizons making the tree just outside the door look small. Maybe it can all go away with a spring cleaning. I'm not sure.
What I know is that I feel homesick, wherever I go. Either away from family, or friends, love, and the future. There should be an escape. Whatever it is, it escaped me so far. Packing up used to feel exciting. Now, there's an additional baggage, etched into every closed zipper. The weight of every place I've visited, and the sadness of not being able to experience them in the same way.
Wherever place you were raised, it feels as if there's something about it that never goes away.
The hardest part about growing up is that it doesn't feel the same big wide world it did as a kid, like a bird's nest that had fallen off the branch.
When people you used to look up to have fallen from grace.
that was really nicely written. thank you mate, you made tonight make more sense! i guess that is what happens as your horizon broadens; the old, small world shrinks into its bubble. a kind of stasis, a reminder of the world that once was but one which you can't ever get into the same way.