Coming home has been rough. Melbourne was the first place that has ever felt like home for me. When I left America I was running. Running from a guy who treated me like I didn’t matter. Running from people who really didn’t even see me until I told them I was leaving. Running from years of feeling like I didn’t belong. Coming home means I’m confronting all of that again. Even if I haven’t talked to that guy since he broke my heart for the billionth time. It’s hard being back. I want to face the bad head on. I want to fix things so I’m not running anymore. I’m done running. I want to find another place that feels like home. Or a person who feels like home. Terrified but excited to see what comes next.
