I find myself longing for a place I once was very happy to leave behind. It was never about surroundings.
I packed up shards of my heart, then carefully constructed plans with a mind I couldn’t trust. In my haste, I neglected to drag my soul along.
I ran from sickness. Sickness travels. A fools endeavor. I’m not the first.
I built a sand castle and named it home. When it washed away, I buried my head in its shell. I became a shell in the process.
And now I see the beauty of the forest and hear the music of the creek of my youth in my mind and wonder why I wished it away so frivolously.
This place has it charms, but it diminished me. I’m not as strong as I thought, or even half as smart. I feel my energy leaving…albeit slowly.
I’m not far, but I’m a million miles away from where I desire so much to return and replant these weathered roots, before I’m washed away like my temporary castle.
I am temporary too…we all are. Time is an unforgiving tyrant.
I feel as though I may finally lay my sickness down, but I’ll drown it in the river for the benefit of everyone, just to be safe.
I need to go home.
SPC
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