You Can Never Go Home

They say that you can never go home.
Here I am, 45 minutes from the hospital I was born in, 20 minutes from one of the houses I lived in as a child and a room away from my Dad, and still I know that this phrase is very, very true.

I'm lonely. After spending 2 years in Korea, I don't know who I can call here.

The people I missed more than most I know will tell me it'll be alright, not to worry, things will get better. That won't do the tears streaming down my face a lick of good.

The people back in Korea would know how to make me laugh, and they'd know what I need to get over these feelings. Those are the people who know me.

I miss Liz, Lady Pirate, Moe, all my people back there... This isn't home. This place isn't the place I'm happiest. I'm thrilled to be back in the states, and happy I'll be able to get my Dad taken care of, but I just want to be happy again. I don't want to be lonely and overwhelmed. I don't want so much weight on my shoulders. I just want to be somewhere I know and understand, even if it sucks sometimes. I don't know how to function here.

So I sit here, quiet and alone, and pray, because I just don't know what else to do.