I’m really missing home.
Some days are really draining and rough.
I question everything, kicking myself in absolute terror that I will never be able to afford to come home again.
I miss Central Park, with its white gazebo in the little rose garden.
I miss the streets of Burlingame Ave, the train station, the library, the oceanside, the pillars with its beautiful leaf design.
I miss the trees, the people, the quiet content energy.
It is where I started to grow into myself, and while I know I moved out here to force that issue and push that envelope I cannot help but feel a little…lost.