Long Island.

You hate this place because it’s not you. You don’t have a clique. You hate these people because they aren’t you. They never got you. You rather see stars and trees because that’s simply what sets you free. It’s unfortunate that there’s only cars and beaches, oh did I mention the pollution and yet you think you have the solution to solve this grand problem that the world must fix, the goal that you chase, the problem you try to erase. At least you know this home isn’t your place.

As for me I miss your face, I’m on this island and I know that this isn’t my place, this is where I met you and I’m in love with the memories. I have a clique, so I feel like I’m forced to stick, but I don’t want to be here too, when I’m home it doesn’t feel like when I was with you. Is it my time to go? You used to say, “home is wherever you are”. I think you found your home and your purpose and I know life is not a race, but I feel like you’re winning. I try to force myself to be happy on the island where I reside. On an island where it’s impossible to get lost, so you know I’m jealous of you because you can just get up and leave, you’re able to get lost. I guess I’m lucky because the lost I get is the I’m lost for words. I never know if I should speak to you or should I just let the cat keep my tongue.

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