where do I belong

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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Take offs & Landings.

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The road leads back to you and familiar far off places. I am leaving in various directions to far off destinations. Anywhere but here, and yet every where and in between. Leaving pieces of myself in different cityscapes and landscapes. Taking with me only what I need to live and survive. Leaving on a jet plane, and who knows when I’ll be back again.

When you’re far from home, you hardly miss it. You stay trapped in the subliminal bliss of journeys that await you. A new story, a familiar place, pieces of strangers that await you on the other side. I could sit in a million seats in crowded places, but nothing compares to the life you see from the gates to terminals. The comings and goings, take offs and landings. Where are we going? Home or further from it? Far off destinations that soon lead you home. I could open my heart and give a piece of it to every person that leaves before me. Open my heart to the strangers and their journeys. Its the strangers that facisnate me. That leave to places I’ll never see, places I’ll never know. We are only the same from the terminal to the gates. Then off on to our journeys and the life that awaits. I leave my past to enjoy the present that awaits me. Familiar places with different faces. Each journey farther from home but eventually leading me home.

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Time stands still. Remembering people, remembering stories and the memories of who we are and who we were. With each trip I am learning, with each trip I am growing up. Searching for parts of myself that I didn’t think would ever exist outside the boundaries of my hometown. My hands shake in anticipation of a new adventure. I can only keep going from here. Embrace this adventure and the people I will encounter. For a brief moment in time, I am connected to these people. To the people that leave and the people that return. We are all connected to an adventure of finding things about ourselves, and growing from each and every experience. Its those strangers that I love, its those strangers that I connect to.

Miles from home, I never feel alone. Miles from home I feel a connection to this life, this illusion of living in and out of a big fat suitcase. Being on the road, I feel more connected to myself then staying in one place. Between take offs and landings is where I feel at home. Up in the sky, floating through the clouds in this never ending dreamland. If you could see me now, if you could see how I fly. If only you could understand that staying in one place, never suited me at all. But being miles away from home, and miles to go before I sleep, at this moment I feel just fine.

 

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.

 

 

 

Drive.

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I am driving blindly down streets I should remember. Streets I see clearer then the veins that scream transparency on the back of my hand. I could be anywhere, but here I stay. Stuck trying to escape this notion of reality and make believe.

Where am I going?
Anywhere, but here.

I race toward the sun in hopes to catch it. Every moment, every second. Every lasting ray of light before the darkness hits, and I am left with nothing. I see everything clearly yet watch everything disappear. This urging in my heart to race toward this everlasting light and pray for the rays to last me forever. Just a few more minutes. Something to take way the feeling of hopelessness and fill me with light. Just a little bit longer. I don’t know where I am going. I don’t know what I’m doing. Its this never ending struggle to pretend it’s okay. That being stuck in one place is fine with me. That being patient is always such a virtue. This road seems never ending. No matter how many times I try to change course, I can’t stop pretending this is where I need to be. Take the long way home, take the shortest route, go these places that are the roads most travelled. Stay safe, drive slow, and the rest will follow.

I grow tired of staying in one place. My mind is going a mile a minute and I’ve grown tired of these familiar streets and haunting surroundings. There is nothing for me here. There is nothing I need from these 4 walls that haunt me while I sleep. Its a race against time. Its a race against nothing. It’s catching feelings in moments that never truly exist. But still I steer myself toward the horizon in the right direction. This light will save me. This light will guide me home. I take blindly all the time and accounts of the nothing that exists. Take everything and push your way through. I am driving myself crazy. I am driving myself mad but the light will carry me home. Just a little while longer before the light goes. Just a little while longer before we disappear.

Its the misty lights that seem so pretty through theses skies. I know what I need to do, I just need to stop the fear from hurting. Race toward the light and watch the uncertainty disappear with each mile I retrace. This will all disappear, all go away. In one instant I’ll be home and pay no mind to my doubts and worries. Not much further I see my exit guiding me home. I don’t know where I am going but I know where this leads. Even if home is just a distant memory to me.

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

I left my heart in San Francisco.

I left my heart in San Francisco, but you still haunt the streets. It’s hard to imagine a living person could haunt your waking day, but you do. Your ghosted memories are trapped beneath the steps, where we once held hands, and believed the city was ours. Beneath the street lights and cable cars, where you once said she meant more to you then I ever could. It was always someone else, and someone else loving you more than I ever could. I could never compete. Maybe you were right, because loving a person more than I ever could, would never be right.

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The city I once felt solidarity with was slowly tearing me apart. Keeping images of you, every step that I turned. I watched as the days when you left, turned to months. As my tears vanished into the misty fog, that swallows this city in the under belly of the sun. There are flowers in my hair and the drinks are endless to drink you goodbye. But you stand before me on the steps I take to rid myself of you. You walk toward me in the sounds of a haunting melody on the streets. You wait for me on the hilltops of the parks where we once said, this could never be over. I find myself retracing my steps back to find you. Its what you do, haunt the ones you could never love to love you more than she ever could. I was a fool to believe I could. Believe that I could love anyone as much anyone else could.

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This city traps you in believing in things that no longer exist. The ghosts of you and me roam the streets, but slowly I see us vanishing into the misty fog haze that wraps around this city. Maybe I never loved you as much as she did, but for a moment I thought I could. I wanted to love you as much as I loved this city. How the chill in the air could seep to your bones and make you feel alive. How the people could go everywhere and still return to that city by the bay. For a moment I believed that we could go our separate ways and find ourselves right back into this city. I was wrong. Sometimes you have to leave your heart in places you love the most. To rid yourself of believing in people that are now haunted ghosts in your memory.

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How could I leave my heart in a city so grand and yet find you still haunting the steps I walk upon. Every step I take you’ve already taken. Every bus line, every train stop, a memory of you floats back into my memory. I left my heart on the doorsteps between the city and here. I left you reciting back words that stay etched inside the walls of every sky scraper I see in my mind. This city had to show me. I had to watch you fall in love with girls that only break your heart. But here in this city is where I leave you. Here in this city is where I leave my heart.

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There will always be people after you. People I will love that will love me more than I ever could. But these days I go searching the streets of the city to find what I left so long ago. Find what I fell in love with before and after you left me. Its this city that transplants your heart back to life and I can never love anything else. I left my heart in San Francisco but you no longer haunt the streets.

My love waits there in San Francisco
Above the blue and windy sea
When I come home to you, San Francisco
Your golden sun will shine for me

5/5/2012

 

246.

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If I don’t write this down, I’ll never let go of it. I’ll never find my way to say the things I’ve always wanted to say. There are places that stay stitched in your memory. Vividly that you often believe that they happened just yesterday. Memories of people, places and things and how they made you feel. Its easy to misplace these thoughts and hide them deep within ourselves. But on those days when you search to remember, you find it right where you left it. Right into the depths of your soul. On the days that I don’t feel like myself, I go searching for this place. The place that made me feel the safest, that made all the nightmares disappear. It’s amazing how your mind works when you search to remember. Because its these memories that feel like they were yesterday but reality is that it were years ago.

I find myself dreaming of that house. The house with the tiny yard in the middle of the alley. I shouldn’t be looking back, I should be always looking forward. When things get bad, I find myself running toward that house in my memory. To the gravel road and the broken fences. Back to the home that always felt so large in stature. Large in wonderment and memory. The more I think about it, the more the memories rush toward me. The light that harbors inside every corner of that house, that opened up parts of myself I often forget. I was never this negative. I was never truly this heartbroken. Once upon a time, I stretched my arms out as far as they could reach and span around in circles to dream.  I felt dreams, aspirations, and believed that everything was possible. I wasn’t afraid to dream and these days I am afraid of everything. When it hurts to move on, I think of that house. That little gray house that stands in the middle of the alley. Because no matter where I go, I look toward that house to come home. Because to me, after all these years it feels like home.

It’s taken me so long to realize this but this house doesn’t feel like home. I hold my items in a house that feels fragile to the touch. We hide ourselves in rooms in the darkest corners of this house. We hide ourselves from the world, when everything used to be so out in the open. We occupy our time with being people we never intended to be. I can’t help but feel alone, feeling we lost something the moment we moved. Maybe its just me. Maybe I am the crazy one that puts too much emotion into stationary things. But some nights, I still dream that I am back there. At that little house that always felt so large in stature. That little house that always felt so open with life. That little house that felt like home to me. I’ve moved and lived in so many places. Big to biggest cities but no where feels like home. Most nights I don’t remember where I am. Most nights I dream I am somewhere else and waking up some place else. Because the point of growing up is finding where you fit in, in the world. Finding out where is home to you and where you belong.

Nothing feels like home anymore. My body is just placed in different places but none of them feel like home. Because home was where I once felt I had a family. Where I once felt like I had everything. Where my dreams were bigger than my body. I miss that. I miss outstretching my arms to the sky and spinning around in circles. I miss the feelings that went away as soon as I got older and started to forget. Its so easy to forget where you came from. To forget what brought you to the places that you’re at right at this moment. Its not that I want to forget, it just hurts too much to remember that once I was happy. Once I cared so much and believed I could be anything. Now I just feel numb, that this place doesn’t feel like me. Even though my blood, sweat, and tears formed this house, my heart never belonged here.

Never said goodbye to the house, as I should have done years ago. I never reached out my arms to the walls and said everything I wanted to say. In dreams I go back and whisper everything I feel at the moment. I tell all my secrets in dreams and forget I have to wake up eventually. I haunt myself with memories that don’t exist anymore. Looking to the past when I should be looking toward the future. But when my heart is hurting and my mind is blank, I go searching for this place. This vacant place that doesn’t exist anymore. Its been so long since I’ve been back that being face to face with it, doesn’t hold the same emotion as it once did. But once upon a time, I felt love in this house. For the longest time this was home to me. Now I have to find where I belong.

Where do I belong.

11/9/2005

Sinking like a stone in the sea.

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I can’t breathe.

My body feels heavy and the more I gasp for air, the more I can’t breathe. The air fills every open space  and I still clench my chest for more. I am suffocating in this dry land, I am suffocating with thoughts closing in on every last bit of my heart. This is the end. This is how I go. The thoughts that cloud my thinking and suffocating my breathing. This is how I disappear, how the memories vanish and wash away to shore. I need a clean escape, a new beginning and everything else that follows with that.

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We all want that escape to take us away from this reality. Take us far away from whats familiar and lead us straight into the unknown. All I want is some piece of mind. Some place that helps me breathe again. Some place so deep within my soul that I can find everything I am looking for. Its not here on land, its not here in this city, its somewhere near the water with its clear blue oceanic views. Take me to the ocean with this clear blue waters. Take me to the sands as white as snow. Take me far away from this reality and help me reach the shore. Let the waters run through my body and allow the currents to wash me out to sea.

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If I sink to the bottom of the ocean, no one will find me. They’ll mourn my life but they’ll never have me. I watch every inch of my skin become consumed under water. Watch the tides come tell me their secrets as they reach the shore.  I’ll let the water fill my lungs and only then will I breathe again. It’s only in water that I feel whole again. It’s only in water that the heaviness in my heart becomes completely weightless. My body is the stone that slowly sinks down in the sea. Watching the water consume my body, I feel weightless. I am sinking but I feel weightless. As cliche as it sounds, I feel like I am finding my way back home.

Its in this water that I feel like this life wasn’t good enough for me. That I could have been anything I wanted to be, but failed miserably. I could change my life into whatever I want it to be. I can finally find my way back home. Its in these waters that I feel clean. Clean from the bullshit necessities of yesterday. Clean from the juvenile way of thinking. Clean from the belief that I haven’t done anything with my life. I clench my chest and for the first time I can breathe again. I don’t find myself gasping for air. Instead I find my beating heart, its in the moment, I feel home.

1/12/2010

She wrote me a letter from San Diego.

My mind is cleansing itself of the past. Which brings me to how I feel today. Reliving old conversations and revisiting old promises from years prior. Because it’s what I do best, going through the scabs and learning to live with the scars. We said one day, we would make it there. All the way to sunny San Diego. Run away from this god forsaken town, and into hideaway of the summer sun. That was always the plan. You had never been and I had been far too many times. What a great place to get away and forget anyone ever existed. Away from the judging eyes, the crazy people, and the homes that have long forgotten us. God, how I loved the idea of running in and out of trouble and escaping to the southern California sun.

I’ve never been so lost
I’ve never felt so much at home
Please write my folks and throw away my keys

That seems to be the thing lately. Running away from problems, instead of dealing with everything head on. I should have seen all the signs, instead I played with the idea. It would be better for us to run and leave this place behind. Into the coast and becoming different people. Completely opposites of who we really are. Maybe then things would be different for us. We wouldn’t feel like strangers, we wouldn’t hurt each other anymore. Maybe after you have been somewhere else, you’d be kinder to me. We’d be kinder to each other. Mirages are illusions and even your words played tricks on me. I could be easily wooed and easily persuaded, and just the same easily fooled. It was the idea of the grass being greener on the other side of the state, that I could plot and plan our escape. I was wrong and most days its hard letting go.

There’s a fear that comes before me once I reach the golden coast. Once I drive through the sandy beaches and breathe in the salty air. Sometimes I wonder what would have happened had we made it there. Had we lived in this runaway mode and left with only what we had on us. Down the western coast and into the southern regions of our escaped minds. This city is tainted for me, I could never go back. Even if it never happened, I could never return. The memory of pacts you make with forgotten people, change you completely in the end. Its mad to believe people have that hold over your reality. That they hold this nostalgic tainted feeling that ruins the present for you. I loved San Diego but all I think about is this promise of being someone else. Anyone else then who we were at that current time. I see the present and can’t help but feel lost in this sea of sand, wind, and the sun. Its not the southern coast, it’s not what I used to love. It’s not you and me and what we believed we wanted from each other.

and maybe I could live forever
If not ever I had known
that you’d be waiting here whenever I am all alone

All of that is done and over with. As the years progress, I can’t keep hiding from cities where your memories exist. I can’t keep searching for you on the streets of my mind. You are not there and you never were. I just have to accept that. Growing up means letting go and hopefully I can finally be done with these thoughts. These foolish memories of pretending that this was what I wanted in the end. We were never going and that’s a fact. One day, I’ll finally go back. One day I’ll finish writing you that letter and send it postmarked San Diego. Its then you’ll know I am not coming back with you.

4/12/2009

 

The Oregon Trail.

When you embark on a journey, you always set out to find yourself. In your wonderland expectations of personality and living. You run to the highest mountains and sink in the deepest seas. Crave the adventure of new experiences and wish for completely new beginnings. When I packed my bags, I wished it was for forever. I wished that I could be a lost soul and roam the coast until I found myself again. That I could run away to the mountains and be lost amongst the greenery settings. All the years I hid behind the shadows, I never realized how much I missed the sun.

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There is a picturesque magic of the western coast. Something people seldom see. Sometimes even we that reside on the west coast, become so jaded by our own thoughts that we forget how beautiful we have it. If I could photograph every line of the journey, I would. Even photographs wouldn’t do it justice. The magic of the greens from the trees, the beauty of the waters so clear, and how the air just fills your lungs with this joyous pure emotion. If this was forever, I would take it. Take every last bite of this green earth and return to the trails of Oregon. I am living in a dream and only reality could bring me down to earth.

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I spent a lifetime hiding in the shadows of my misery, missing opportunities of the sun. The roads that lead to nowhere seem to guide you home. Most days, I don’t even know where home is. Home is a combination of here to there and a little bit of everywhere. Passenger seats and confessing my deepest hopes to the dashboard of road companions. Where do we go from here? To the deep blue seas and the frigid waters of the lakes hidden in the trees. To the people that make you feel alive and the strangers that hit you with the reality of coming home. I am never ready to go home. Never ready to even entertain the idea of returning back to reality. All I could ever want is to hide amongst the trees and lose myself in the picturesque scenery.

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The greener the city, the prettier the sunset. Seeing stars for the first time with clear eyes, that have been lost amongst the concrete buildings. At any minute this would be over and I will run back home. Home seems like a distant memory and some days, I am afraid to go home. Afraid of conforming to everyone else’s standards. Afraid of being stuck under the same four walls of my insecurities. The journey is almost over and through the smiling and the laughter, I feel home. Something I haven’t felt in the years of journeys of my youth. Something that was always lost in the translation. It doesn’t matter how far I go in my lifetime, I am always going to go home. Even if most days, home is just a distant memory.

One day I’ll return to the cities too beautiful to explain with words. One day I will find a way to leave home and find out where I really belong. Until that moment I regroup and return to my same four walls, to plan my next escape. All life is just another chance to escape, and one day I won’t come home. I’ll find my way back to you, I’ll find where I belong.

One day.

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