I went home. Home is Boulder, Colorado. About four years ago I left this place for Miami, then Miami for Los Angeles, and homesickness has plagued me the entire time. The bond I've felt with home did not materialize this time around. I didn't feel completely satisfied touching the ground and I don't want to stay. I might not love Los Angeles, but I don't hate it either - something I've heard plenty of times from Angelenos. It's like a family dog, troublesome but lovable.
In trying to look for a once favorite quote of mine, which goes something like, I'm a foreigner in my homeland, I found this one "Homesickness is...absolutely nothing. Fifty percent of the people in the world are homesick all the time...You don't really long for another country. You long for something in yourself that you don't have, or haven't been able to find," said by John Cheever. This statement carries more weight than the former. When I come home, it's to find relics of my past, the familiar toys, memories and people. These things comfort me and remind me of who I was, because new places make me feel lost. The danger of the unknown.
Los Angeles is as much a home to me as much as I want it to be. An obvious point and late realization, but I was never a child of the world. Stepping into that unknown. As John Le Carre said "we are the sole survivors of a world no one else has ever seen," and, there is so much more to see.
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