Tonight I can write the saddest lines… 

Naw. Not even if I tried REALLY hard.
Tonight I realised I’m home. No, really. This city has always pulled me back to it, in some bizarre, cruel, twisted joke (yes yes many adjectives = bad writing I know), only it turned out to be truly life-altering. I don’t think I could be the person I was in March 2008 again, and I think that’s not a bad thing at all.
I found a home tonight. And rediscovered another one.
The bar we often go to on Friday nights, usually crammed to bursting point with our friends and their friends and their friends, ad nauseum. As a corollary, the people who the bar stand for. I walked in, and sat down; grinned at the bartender and said no, I’m not drinking tonight, I’m driving. I ate my momos and giggled with PK, swung by to say hello to the DJ (my current musical HERO), and it hit me that whenever I walk in, I’m home. It doesn’t matter how mad I was before that, how crappy my day/week/month has been, it doesn’t matter who’s there or who’s not – I’m home. I’m lost in the warmth that lingers in your sheets on a cold winter morning. You know, that whiff of perfume from the last time someone slept over, the wrinkles on the sheet and the fantastic shapes in the quilt. It just makes me smile. Something rushes through me and pushes at me, whispering “THIS place”.
And then I drove home, to the parental house. I swung by the turns and pulled up on the driveway. I got out of the car, and the breeze brushed past me. The house twinkled at me greyly, and the moon turned the clouds to jewels. The gate creaked open, and after the appropriate wiggle, the door opened. The wind though the house covered me with the jasmine that my mother planted under my window, and over my first dog’s grave. I smiled. The feeling rushed through me again and murmured “THIS place”.
Yes, indeed, THIS place.
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