The meaning of the word 'Home'.

Nostalgia has been making me miss home lately.

But this brings me to wonder, what exactly is home to me? Was it the house I grew up in? The house I spent the majority of my teenage years in? My grandmother’s house, where I lived right before I got married? What, exactly, is home? Is it the place with the most memories?

Then, as I was thinking this, it hit me, it all made sense. Trying to re-live memories will never work, nor will visiting the places I’ve been. Why? Because Nostalgia is a craving to feel secure, as I did before. The only reason I want to go back, is because these memories I hold near, at the time that they were created, I felt safe and secure. I felt on top of the world, and nobody could reach me.

I was home.

I’m incredibly stoned out of my mind right now, and I was listening to Right Away Great Captain. I had an ended Skype conversation window still open, and was seeing my video. Just as he sings the line “I’m not ready to forgive you.” I looked up at myself.

I realized that I’m the one I can’t forgive. It was all my fault.

First post.

How nostalgic.


I used to use this blog URL when I had my first blog. Deleted the whole thing impulsively when the link went viral at my high school, thanks to some girl. Anyway, decided to randomly get it back. Don't have much to say as far as emotions. I feel like I usually do.