What will have changed? What will have remained the same; untainted, unphased?
What will have fallen apart? Is love and life that strong when ripped apart?
How will I miss the warmth of home- the gentle touches - when I am once again enveloped in her clutches?
What will be unbearable now, that once was food for my joy?
It's hard to explain but the indifference washes over me already - like home won't be good enough:
like I was hoodwinking myself all along.
I'm scared to come home - and find out the truth that I fear I knew all along. Not about others but about - you guessed it: my own petty self.
I'm scared to come home and miss this new world - these new joys - more than I desire my old life again.
Truth is, I'm so scared I'll still be hiding... and now, with so much more to hide.
And what if it doesn't compare?
I'd rather not know, so leave me here, where home is just a faint memory of joy, and the knowledge of who I can be and what I know now cannot damage my Eden memory of home, and make me feel naked.
"You go away. You come back - but you never really come back."
"The quickest way to find out who you really are, is to leave where you're from."