*listen while you read*
One month and three days left. And then home.
And this is when it starts. The last week or so it's been sinking it. We're going to leave. Maybe for good. There's no guarantee we'll be back here again. In this capacity, for this length of time. But would we want that?
I've wanted home for so long. And now it's nearly here. It's all rushing to an end and a start at the same time. It's all uncontrollable. And your heart starts to get kind of soft to the place you'd try to build up walls against. Things slow down. You don't want to run through the days anymore.
I've seen it all before. I've done this all before. It's how humans work, isn't it? Always wanting what we cannot have. Longing to be where we cannot. And I hate it. Hate that I can't hate this place. Because home is where I'm going to have to be for good. That's the place I have to belong.
Maybe it's fear. Fear of feeling out of place back home. Much like it felt to come here in the beginning. We'll have been here one month short of half a year when we leave. It's only natural to get comfortable, as much as I may have tried not to. It's only natural to grow attached to places and people. It's only human. But it's so so messy. There's no denying it. I felt it last time when we went home too. The feeling of your heart scattered, torn between two places. So I guess this time, I decided I would not have that problem. I would be devoted totally to home. But there was no stopping it. There's no stopping the way people get into your mind and places get into your blood. You can't ignore things that made you who you are.
So we'll try and do our best. As always. I do want home. Really. I want my tall, comfy bed, I want my desk, our little town, I want the people there mostly, I want the feeling and knowledge and comfort of home -- I do. But I want this place too.