do you remember
880 in the pouring rain
in the middle of the day, in the middle of the week
dreaming of Californication
i couldn't even tell you what it meant
feeling like i could be whatever i wanted
but feeling obligated to do what i was already doing
how hard is it to give up everything
and become something new
walking through the mall
to get home from school
always jeans and always too hot
i had no idea who i was or who i could be
i used to go to starbucks every morning
i used to go to the drive thru baskin robbins at the end of the day
i used to follow a routine
not that it made me feel better
but because that's what i was used to
driving down Happy Valley
in the fall,
when the leaves turn
and the road feels like a mystical forest
the way the trees perfectly arch above the street
on my way
maybe we don't really enjoy what's around us
we just get used to it
the comfort of the familiar
when you go back home
does something stir your soul?
or does it feel washed up
a place i call home
feels like i don't belong here anymore
home really isn't a place, but a feeling
you feel like home
this feels like home
i am home
when you think about the "good times"
what are you referring to?
because now~
these are the good times!
nostalgia kills
i keep going back to the past
because i heard that knowing your past helps you know who you are in the present
but every time i look back
it feels like my old self is pulling me back
she can't be here, so she tries to suck me in
but that's not what i want
that's not who i am
anymore
i am the scent in the air after the rain
i am the chaos of the city
i am the lull of the waves
i am the clouds
i am the glow of the morning sun
word vomit might be a thing
and this might be it
but hear me out
repeat after me
i'm on my way
back to myself
