where you live is what you become.

except for a few brief weeks,

I never went back.

“didn’t you like it there?”

Yes. But it was not home.

I’ve known since I was 17, I couldn’t sleep and the air was cool and I hadn’t even met you yet. I knew that night and every one since that if anyone could find beauty here, I would see it, be captivated by it, and never want to leave.

I didn’t tell anyone in the house. I wanted to wake them and say, “I will always be here: or near at least.” But I’m glad I let them sleep because it all turned out so differently. 

The shit you said to me opened up the door to something infinitely more important than loving your stupid ass – loving myself.