Being back home always brings along this routine of self-discovery and apprehension, along with the feeling that I won’t be the same upon returning. Why is it so easy to lose touch with all of this, with who you were born as and grew up to become? It’s quite strange knowing that my life won’t be built around these parts, surrounded by these people who I will always recognize but struggle seeing myself reflected in. All I lived as a child and as a teenager is here, so far away from me that when I revisit these places I can’t help becoming one again.
I’m glad I’ve grown up here and I’m glad I’ve gone away. If I hadn’t, I wouldn’t care as much as I do about this place.
I have a flu at the moment and I’ve had a hard time focusing on anything that’s not absolutely brain-numbing. I’ve been playing around with squirrels, though.