hometown

This Town.

This is my Town.  This is my city. This is my home when shit gets gritty.
I see the lights, hear the sounds, and know everything will be okay now.

This is my block, this is my home. These are my streets that lead me home. It doesn’t matter where I am going. It just matters how long before I come back to the familiar stench of this familiar city. I watch things come, I watch things go. People are free to come and go as they please. Leave and return, everything will be okay soon.

I want more. I want more than the bare boned buildings that become nothing more than skeletons of our past. More than this slowing pulse of people settling, growing further away from who they used to be. A million mistakes away from our future self. A thousand forgiven apologizes in the form of morphed manipulation into something different. This town changes you. This town keeps your grounded. This town sucks at the empty soul of your youth and helps settle you into the bitter adulthood.

We were all those crazy kids once. Kids that travelled to larger cities, bigger than our hometown. Away from the familiar streets. Away from the roads that lead us home. Seeking adventure, seeking life, seeking something bigger than this mundane life. You could always go home, they say. Always come back to this town that stayed embedded into your brain.

We grow up to hate each other. Grow up bitter from our past and grow up to shatter the shells of our former selves. This isn’t what was suppose to happen. This wasn’t how I was suppose to be. We all said we’d be friends forever. Now I can’t even look at half of your faces. We grow up to be better versions of ourselves. When does that actually start? Half of us aren’t better, instead we are bitter. I can’t stand by this anymore.

This town is home when it feels fit to be. This town is my town, whenever I want it to be.

 

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Hometown Glory.

No matter where you go, you can always come home.

We are no longer who we say we are. We are slowly drifting further from who we were when we started. Growing up and accepting life’s responsibilities of being grown up. Different places, different faces, different times, changing us into who we are suppose to be. It doesn’t matter where we are going, but we end up further from where we started. “Don’t ever change”, you would once say. Now all I want to do is be someone else, some place else.

Running away is easy. Run to the hills where no one will find you. Run to the streets and to the oceans that will separate you from me. I’ve run to bigger cities with their ever eclipsing skyscrapers, to escape these thoughts. To escape my footsteps that stay cemented on the grounds, that have been repaved to be broken again. How big the city seems that makes me feel small, how small my hometown is that never let me grow. I can’t help but watch it all happen all over again. I am growing older but feeling the same. In the same places in different spaces. Your soul feels exposed when the light hits you just right. In a town where everyone knows your secrets and you can’t help but hide from the lies that always seem like truths. Its not where you’re going, it’s how far and fast you can leave this place. Away from familiar faces and away from the boring mundane familiarity of yesterday. If I stand still, I watch everything pass me by.

Miles from home you tend to still feel alone. You hang on to different experiences to make you different. To feel like someone else in some place else. All life is, is a bunch of experiences to make you grow up. Be different, be weird, be who you’re suppose to be. Inside you’re aware of how phony you feel. Even 300 miles from home, you still yearn to be home. Still seek comfort in the familiar that you’ve tried desperately to escape. I spent a lot of time running away from my hometown. Wishing I was somewhere else, any where but here. Even being 300 miles away, I am still wishing to be somewhere else. I am still wanting to be anywhere but here in this moment. Everyone once in a while, when the light hits just right my hometown feels like home to me.

Being home I don’t feel so alone. Even after a while people leave and go off to far off destinations. I am a plane ride away from my next adventure. Living in and out of a big fat suitcase and still I linger on. Home is just a concept to make you feel something you can’t explain. Home is another word for failure and all it’s hurtful things. Home is how I feel when ever I am here with you. For the first time all these love letters I have written to other cities seem misplaced. After all these years I search for things to remind me of you, and here I am again.

Home is not a concept in my mind. Home is my feet planted firmly on the ground. Across the cracked pavements of the streets I know by heart. Home is a house that sits empty on gravel street in my memory. Even after all these years. After all the places I’ve lived. All the places I made my home, in cities bigger than my hometown. It’s my hometown I come back to. It’s my hometown that makes being alone not feel lonely anymore. It’s in my hometown that I feel that I have something, when I lost everything in sight.

For the first time I am home, even when I have failed miserably inside. It doesn’t hurt me anymore.

 

 

 

Homecoming.

Do you think about me now and then. 

Home is where the heart is, but my heart’s already broken. You could always come home. Come home to the familiar sounds, from the familiar streets, where the familiar faces meet. Come home to where the roads point back to the familiar memories, familiar stories that make up who you are. You could always come home, you tell yourself. Home is where the heart is, but my heart has been shattered. Where do I go from here?

Life doesn’t stop because you’ve left and gone. Life goes on even when you’ve forgotten where you came from. People grow up after saying they never would. People change when they said they’d stay the same. But I’m still figuring out this life I see before me. Failing, falling, sinning, and watching everything that’s familiar change before me. We’re all in a changing game and memories are all that’s left of this nostalgic ship that’s sinking. But I can’t change when I am not ready too. I can’t change when I need something to hold on too.

Watching seasons change in my hometown, the colors turn from gold to brown. I could always come home. Come home to the people that grow up from their juvenile tendencies. Watch familiar faces start families and mold their kids to make up their past mistakes. We’re afraid of our pasts, so we grow up in our present. Breaking hearts in ourselves that don’t dent the armor in our future. Don’t be like me, don’t be like you, change everything you once were into something you could never be. We all need a clean slate to change into who we want to be. Leaving hometowns and starting some place better than this.

I could go from here to there and everywhere, but coming home always breaks my heart. Faces are changing faster than seasons do. People are leaving before they get driven out, because everything that was once familiar is dead and gone. There’s nothing for me now. There’s nothing in this town but coming home means starting over and changing everything now. Home is where the heart is, but I don’t know where home is now.

Where do I belong.

3/13/2009

Where do I belong.

When you’re little you imagine going to far off places. Living in big beautiful cities. Meeting crazy characters that end up being the main focal points of your story. These make believe places that you dream about are all places you’ve heard about in films, songs, and books. You live this free existence that no one really understands. Why would you leave whats familiar into something you’ve never seen? The moments that act as they’ll last forever. The memories that hold you back from your fears. Those moments of being young and reckless without a care in the world.

Yesterday I packed my bags and said I was leaving.

Yesterday.

It seemed farther away than I imagined.

I boxed up every memory. Tore apart every photo. Said I was leaving and never coming back. Never say never, right?

Entranced by big lights and cityscapes, leaving the confides of your hometown to something bigger. This illusion you gave yourself when you were younger. Everything is better somewhere else. Everything is going to change once you change yourself. Failing wasn’t an option, it wasn’t even a footnote in your story. You pack everything you own into suitcases and boxes and hope for the best of everything you want. I didn’t know where I belonged, but I knew I belonged somewhere.

Yesterday.

I said I was leaving. I said I wasn’t going to come back until I made something of myself.

Yesterday.

Today, I felt like a stranger in my own hometown. Today the familiar faces that I grew up with are growing up. Did I miss the mark on being a grown up, believing that reality happened outside of your hometown? Chasing dreams, following strangers, and believing in illusions, everything I believed in yesterday. Today, I stopped believing.  There’s nothing like the present to frighten the past. It doesn’t matter how many places you’ve been, you could always come home. It doesn’t matter how many memories you have, you still haven’t gone very far.

Today, I felt stuck in my hometown. Today the streets that intertwined with the memories of the past, followed me into my present. You could always come home. The same faces, same ceilings, same old haunted stories, you could always come home to. I know every place and street in this town. I know the people, their stories, and their history. I know that after every darken night with bright lights, comes a sun lit sobering morning. Coming home isn’t always an option, coming home isn’t always a choice. Sometimes, coming home is all you have left once your spirit is broken and your dreams fade. My dreams were always bigger than my hometown, but today I can’t help but feel so small. Something bigger is coming, I know it. For the moment I have to settle for the sobering confides of my small town. Piece together the dreams of yesterday I have left. Piece together every scrap of an illusion that made me want to leave in the first place.

Today I said I would be different than yesterday. Today I said I’ll give this all a second chance. Today, I’ll figure out where I belong. Where do I belong?

Yesterday, I said I was leaving. I can’t help but wish that I was. Packing up every memory and starting over. Today, I’ll settle to stay home. If only for a little while.