Home alone

Sometimes I find myself thinking I've caught a glimpse of you in the crowd. It's your coat. Your way of doing your thick hair. Your scarf flattering in the breeze. Could it be...? I'm about to shout your name. Call out. Hey, notice me. I'm here. Then it hits me. You're not here with me. It can't possibly be you. I'm left here. I'm here denisaless. But a piece of me is there with you.

I know it's difficult to leave. To go away, abroad, change the environment for something completely unknow and unfamiliar. It's a brave step, forward to your future. Both requiring sacrafices and causing a lot of unease to say the least. However, the bright side of it surely must overdo these terrifying implications - left alone, only dependant on your own capabilities, failing and succeeding, every day a new challenge. 

Now, I don't want to diminish all that...

At home, seeing well-known faces, surrounded by familiarity, security. All the same. But yet different. Feeling like an allien? A stranger at home? Yes, because you're not here with me. Everything seems distant. It is said that only when we lose something we realise the true value of it in our lives. For one thing I believe I haven't lost you :). You're just temporarily unavailable for real-life hugs (thanks for the virtual ones!), right? And secondly, I hope I have appreciated you when we were together. I honestly count myself to the lucky ones knowing you.

I love you - that's probably all I want to say and I want you to be sure of.

I'll be waiting :)

Come Home