an orphan of home

feeling “at home” somewhere has always been a thing for me. it’s very important for me to have My Home or My Area.  currently, I don’t know where that is.  I call both Louisiana and the apartment in Minnesota “home”.  I “flew back home” for the holidays, yet we “made it back home” yesterday.  but I feel comfortable in neither of them; I don’t feel like I belong in either.

all of my shit is in Minnesota.  my rent and my cat are here.  my job is here.  but my friends are back in Louisiana; and my family, and my history.  my history that I wanted to escape — much of which I did successfully.

when I do go back to Louisiana, I am able to surround myself with only the people I like and care for.  for the most part, my life away has allowed me to create a kind of haven in Louisiana.  and I have very little history in Minnesota, so there’s almost nothing to escape or hide from.

I suppose I’m just babbling.  I’ll go back to work tomorrow like normal.  though I don’t really belong there.  and I’ll live in this apartment that’s not really mine.  and I’ll talk to people who are only just barely my friends.  but I won’t long to be back in Louisiana, because there lingers so much negativity of memories and people.  and I’ll just remain an orphan of home.

I’m close now, near a
place I used to call home.
It’s supposed to be easy to
come back to something so
ingrained in our bones. Yet if
that’s true, then why does
the familiar feel so cold?

~ “Cold“, by Jacob Ibrag



I miss the Sun. I miss the Moon and its Stars. I miss bugs and insects. I miss birds. squirrels, racoons, neutria, ducks. I miss kids playing outside. I miss people hollering to one another scross streets, campuses, and offices. I miss “thanks you”, holding doors open, blessing people after sneezes, the “no clue clue who you are but have a great day anyway” nods and smiles.

I even miss the messy drama and loud ignorants sometimes.

zydeco music, thenreligion of food, crazy “I wasnso drunk that” stories, pickup trucks, proper manners, kindness, boots and camouflage, guns and confederate flags.

I miss the South.

I miss my home.

Minnesota is neat. the people are interesting, the weather is beautiful, the social care is impressive.

but it’s fast, so detached. everyone’s always inside, people never greet you, and there’s no interpersonal relationships.

apparently “real” big cities are worse. I could never survive it.

I think things will get easier as it gets warmer. there will be nore outdoor activities. and Rain. there’ll be Rain again.

it’s drizzling right now; it was raining lightly today. as beautiful as snow is, and as impressive as it is to see chuncks of ice fall out of the sky — Rain.

I wanted culture shock, adventure, something different. I’m getting it, and overall I really am enjoying it. but honestly, this will never be Home.

I may not need to go all the way back to Acadiana, or maybe not even Louisiana. but I will need the South back in my life eventually.

there’s a saying: “youcan  take a girl out of the South, but you never take the South out of the girl”.
for me, it’s more like, “you can take the girl out put the South, but she will always find her way back Home.”

《~ posted via mobile device ~》