A little sick.

Home sick. It's such a bittersweet experience whenever I go back to where my baby roots were laid. Easton. Whoa, how far am I away from that place? Not just in the physical sense, but also emotionally. Maturity has taken on a new meaning since leaving the nest. Could I have ever even really grown up there? I don't think I was capable of escaping the preconceived ideas of who and what I would have become had I stayed in that god forsaken town. That town, county, place would have swallowed me up like a tornado devours a trailer park in Kansas. I can't even fathom where I would have lived, who I would have shared my life with; going there is unimaginable. A whole other place in time, my life, my person, my heart is so completely different than that tough party girl that didn't need anyone to get her through the night. Ever.

So why do I yearn for the smell of fresh potato dirt? Why do I reminisce about the Fry Pan? Why do I even want to relive those moments of despair and uncertainty? I honestly have no idea. It's not so much I want to relive the life I had there as much as it is the wanting to relive a different experience. Does that make sense? And though I must stress I have little regrets, life is just too short for that, I do wish for a day. Just one day in which I could be the person I am now. Just one day where I wasn't the confused, hurt, angry, tough, mean, intolerable person that was on the brink of crumbling at any given moment.

I would be nice to everyone. I would be compassionate to the struggles of others, especially the people who had gone through the same things that I was wrestling with to forget. I wouldn't get stoned (as much, lol). I would laugh out loud and not think even once about Bobby Dionne or the Fry Pan road. I would walk with confidence and hang out with all of the people that would have been supportive had I not pushed them all out of my life by being a tyrannical monster. I wouldn't try to compete. period. I would be home on time for dinner and play Yahtzee with my mum.

These are the things I think about when I'm sick like this. I say bittersweet because I couldn't ever fit into that mold I once wore, yet I miss the time I had there. I miss the innocence of growing up because I had no idea at the time how precious it was and tried so hard to be worldly and knowledgeable that I missed it. And now I have to live with the memory, or lack there of, that it has become. And sometimes there is.....just a little regret.