Shadows are a visual embodiment of impermanence. They are intangible, yet as real as you and me.
Ephemeral like most things in my life.
Sometimes I get an overwhelming sense of homesickness. Yet its not quite that. The feelings and emotions are fleeting, and I can’t seem to elicit a better word for it.
It’s not quite a longing for a place, but more of a longing for a time that doesn’t exist anymore.
My bedroom in San Diego where I grew up feels slightly unfamiliar.
A place that was completely me doesn’t feel like I completely belong anymore.
The me from two years ago vaguely exists.
San Diego was my home. It consisted of trips to the local supermarket every weekend with my family, dance parties in my best friend’s living room, and dates with a boy who made me feel different.
Only one of those things still happen.
I found home in people. But like shadows, people are impermanent. They won’t always be there.
What lives on are the memories and scars that you’ve shared. The words that seem to speak for themselves. The words that don’t exist anymore in the present tense.
But sometimes these scars are too painful to remember, and I wish they’d disappear like the shadows do when light starts to withdraw.
I don’t really belong anywhere and that scares me.
So ultimately I have to find home in myself.