home

home is a concept, by which we measure our loneliness.

another night slips from my grasp, so close that i can almost tell im fucking it up.

i kept all the receipts and napkins scribbled with happy faces and i love yous, in my pocket.

when i reached in to pull them out i realized that i had washed them all. and all that was left were faded fragments of times i romanticized into greatness.

i always step out when everything is going well, and i find a way to mess it up.

theres nothing that can be done to cure this longing for home. my home.



i remember when i left to combat training, all i wanted to do was come home. and when i came home... all i wanted to do was be somewhere else. with you.


with me.


i dont know who i am, and i dont know where home is.

people have always held places for me, in line, in their hearts, in their memories, but i cant be everywhere at the same time. reality could never do. for me.


the truth is, i may be a depressive. and im only happy when i'm depressed.

its just so easy to think about the bad things. and so hard to learn to smile.


i have lived the life i wrote out, and i have failed to write a happy ending.

i saw the stars one time when i was younger, and i remember having this feeling that i belonged somewhere else... somewhere not here.

i just want to go home.

i just want you to come home.

...dont ever tell anyone the truth. cause then they start to think differently of you.