I guess it's the struggle? Or the scenery? Or the lack of passion in my life? But, one thing or another is always calling me back to my mountains, and I really just don't know.
I miss home so much, and I really miss my family. They mean everything to me. I have family here. I have Alexis, who is my closest family member outside of my immediate family, but I miss my dad, my dog, my home. I feel like I always write about home sickness; it's just my reality. I am always searching for everything I don't have rather than being grateful and seeing all the beauty that surrounds me each moment that I breathe.
Sometimes, I feel as if I am going no where, and I am running in circles, going backwards to a place that I don't want to be. But, then, I leave work and run up 12 blocks and I am greeted in a bar by cousins I never saw growing up, and I realize how amazing this place can be.
Most days, I realize that I am searching for something I already have--happiness--but I am longing for a love I cannot live without, and maybe that's what keeps me running in circles. I am always looking for a place to call my home and a person to call my love.
Sigh
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