You asked why I came back here.
And it’s hard for me to explain it to you.
I want to tell you that in all the important ways
I never left at all.
But you know the lie in that truth:
physically, I was gone for so long.
I want to tell you that I came back
because I was tired of living a half-life in a limbo away
and this, perhaps, is closer to the truth.
I want to tell you
that I wanted to lose my citzenship here.
I tried so hard.
But it’s not like I can just tear up a passport.
I want to tell you that,
but I’m not sure if you will know how to take it.
Don’t you see that I tried to leave?
It’s not so much that this place kept calling to me.
that I kept calling to this place.
Even though I did not want to.
I want to explain that home,
home is the basis for our comparisons.
It is the place that all our default settings are etablished.
It is the place where we know the smell of the air before the rain.
It is the place where milk tastes right…
All the chocolate chip cookies I have ever eaten,
they will forever be compared to the archetypal cookies of home.
During the season change I wanted to take the place on its own terms.
When people spoke I wanted to not notice the accents anymore.
I wanted that same look in my eye that they all had as they passed eachother on the street.
But they never came.
Some people find a new home somewhere else.
I found a new home back where I started from.