Homesick
It’s 3 AM on a Tuesday and there’s nowhere to go but down.
The bars are closed, the people are asleep, the city is dead.
You, on the other hand, are open, awake, and alive.
The streets scroll by beneath your feet. There is no one else on this sidewalk. There is no one else on this planet. The only things you can focus on are your mind, your feet, and your music.
You walk for a little while, but not as long as you should. When you return, your apartment building looms above you, ominous – it is a place you love, but it is flawed. A girl you know is sitting outside, and you say hello. She talks to you, tries to cheer you up, but she can’t. She isn’t happy either, and you both know it.
You sit down in your room, open up your laptop. Someone you don’t know IMs you. You start to cry for no reason, but hold it back. You type something up. You contemplate love. You try to change your profile picture, but you can’t find the one you were looking for. Everything is fucked.
That’s when you realize that you’re homesick, at the most inopportune moment, when there’s no one around to help you.
You’re not homesick for Connecticut. You’re homesick for a place you haven’t found yet. You’re homesick for a place that might not always exist.
