Settled in, stretching out, like liquid I settle into the old mold, filling up the old familiar places.
There is a beauty and simplicity to "home". Home can be anywhere, it is really just a feeling you carry with you, and for me that feeling is strongest here, for now.
I was stretched out, balled up, grumpy and hot when I left Florida. Now I'm languid, soft, tense but not so unsmiling. Of course it's still fucking hot.
Old friends, old pain, parents, so much is the same, and so much is, forever changed.
I'm not hurting, at the moment, which is nice. The sand had begun to burn my feet in paradise. Here the asphalt is cool beneath my sneakers and the eyes are not so cruel and the suburban ghetto warriors seem sweet and engaging, (compared to the derelicts of Eden).
I'm looking forward once again, and I'm in my element. These people might not be stars but they are MY people and this place is OURS.
There is something shared here which was never captured in the transient flow and I don't know what to call it but it's better, that I know.
Everything and one I love is here, and it hurts because I feel it, so, close, and I want to be perfect all the time, but it's better than hating everyone and wanting just to hide.
So yeah, I'm glad to be home and there's no place like home and home is where the heart is and my heart is here; you know?