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Friday, September 11, 2009

Home is a feeling a thousand miles away from here...

I always get this odd feeling in my gut as I leave one place and move to another. It always feels to me as if I have to pick up and leave right as I was getting settled in. You have to pack away bits and parts of your life, compartmentalize them for a later time, move on. It seems weird to me how much more you notice when you realize something may or will be your last, and you when you return the next time it won't be the same. Over time you've grown attached to the people and places. Sometimes I feel that it would just be easier to get up and go without a word, and sometimes that is how is goes. But then when I think about it, a proper "good bye" is only good manners. And it is good for everyone. For yourself, others... life! But everywhere you go there seems to be that little bit of you missing, if it's not here, it's there, and you'll never completely be together (it feels).
"She left pieces of her life behind her everywhere she went. It's easier to feel the sunlight without them, she said" (story people). It does make it the skin on your back feel a bit lighter not lugging your life around, but at the same time, there is always that bit of you that wonders what you're missing out on... over there (wherever there is). But if you asked me if I would redo anything, I would not change my life in the least, well maybe there are a few redos that would be nice, but having lived where I lived and met who I met would not change. But somehow home is never where you are. It always feels like home is a thousand miles away from wherever you are, or maybe each bit of home is a thousand miles away from each other, another thousand miles away from you. And sometimes I think it would be nice just to go home. Which I am. I am going "home" in a few days. Ahh! That word. Drives me crazy. But you know what I've come to realize... as humans, we always manage to find something to worry about. If it's not one thing it's something else. If my life had a completely different story I would still be worrying about something.
I love meeting new people, and going new places, but sometimes I wonder if how different it would be if I wasn't as open? (not sure what the right word is) to life, I know it would not make things easier, but it would definately be a different kind of experience. A different kind of pain too I suppose? Maybe regret of not having done certain things or meeting people when presented with an opportunity. Regret of an opportunity not taken is one of the greatest, but that is a completely different topic for another day.
Leaving. It's a hard thing to do. To pack up your life into 25kgs and throw the rest into storage. Hmm. *Sigh* Home.

-Hannah not Montana

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