You know that point in your life when you realize that the house you grew up in isn't your home anymore? All of a sudden even though you have a place where you keep all your stuff, that idea of home is gone. You'll see it when you move out one day and it just sort of happens and it's gone. You feel like you can never get it back. It's like you're homesick for a place that doesn't even exist. Maybe it's like a rite of passage, you know. You won't ever have that feeling again until you create a new idea of home for yourself, and your family and your kids or whatever, and it's like a cycle or something. I miss the idea of it.
Maybe that's all a family really is; a group of people who feel homesick for the same imaginary place.
Maybe that's all a family really is; a group of people who feel homesick for the same imaginary place.
2 comments:
I love this one. Have you posted it before? It sounds so familiar.
I've shamelessly stolen it from a film, actually - Garden State I believe it was called. I've edited it ever so slightly so that it sounds better when read, rather than heard.
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