Home is where the Echo is

I was born in Brooklyn, New York New York.  This isn’t my home.  I moved from there to Croydon England at the age of three. This isn’t my home. Since the turn of the century I’ve lived somewhere in Comecticut. This isn’t my home. 

I go through life feeling like I have a place in this world and I’m not there, like my home is just over the horizon. It’s one thing to not fit in its another to feel like my place is right there waiting for me to stop hanging out around these parts.  That’s why I can’t go home, I’m still Looking for it, but my search is slow because I’m scared of getting hurt on the way. Where is my home? Where am I? What’s the point?
Remember remember the fifth of November. 
I’m a good writer. A person told me to write this. It’s funny if you knew what I meant.

ECHO ECHO

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2 thoughts on “Home is where the Echo is

  1. I’m glad you wrote this, my friend šŸ™‚ It must be frustrating feeling like you’re almost there but not. I struggle with the concept of ‘home’ as well. I lived in the same place until I was almost 18, and most of my extended family still lives there. But that is not my home. The house I live in currently is certainly not my home. Some people can answer the question I posed to you so easily, I had no idea if you would be one of them or not. I’ve really enjoyed reading your story, thank you for sharing it!

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