68 – I want to go home.

I thought I could do it. But I guess I extended my wings a little too early. I think it’s time to call it quits. Back to the nest.

I am losing me. Losing friends and not really gaining any. Losing my writing. My love of art and words and the combination of the two. I have lost the flavours I once loved and indulged in, the freedom I once wielded in my hands.

The city is killing me. Inside and out. My body feels weaker with everyday. Sick. Again. and again. and again. I value health over happiness and I want to be healthy again. I’m not sure that happiness is to be found here anyway.

I miss my old city. The mild weather, the rain. It’s funny, but I really do miss the rain. Miss hearing the clatter of it against the windows. Miss losing myself in wanderlust, in the droplets against the glass.

But I have learned something being here. And regained something too. I have learned that happiness is completely in the grasp of one’s own mind, that no one dictates how I feel besides me. Time away from family has taught me that. Here, I don’t have anyone else’s expectations to worry about – just mine. Just self standards. I have regained my love of reading and that is something I am utmost grateful for. I can once again lose myself again – I can find myself in another city, another time, among another group of people. I have discovered, once again, a different kind of freedom that I had thought only existed in the mind of a child’s imagination. But it appears I was incredibly wrong. Books are timeless, ageless – they maintain a sparkle of magic that can be activated by any mind. I love that.

I will write more. I have been so wishy-washy with my feelings of wanting to blog more and then end up not doing it. Everyday doesn’t seem to be happening, but I will try for more. More. One step at a time, I suppose.

I want to go home.

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2 thoughts on “68 – I want to go home.

  1. And, you’ve learned a valuable lesson, Nessa. That even in the worst of conditions, you can find something to take with you. So that in some future time, the best this city can say for itself is that once you lived there. 🙂 Love to you, my sweet beautiful bird. ~ Bobbie

  2. I went to New York City to College, and suffered a great depression one weekend, so much so I though I was having a nervous breakdown. I discovered many things at that time, and learned that The City was for visiting, not for living. At least for me anyway.
    So good that you are in touch with your feelings, your heart knows best … Good Luck …

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