There and back again.
Feels like a dream.
But it hurts when I pinch myself.
So not so much of a dream, right?
The same old smell of incense, the same old house I used to live in, the same people around. The same sense of familiarity is what keeps telling me where I belong eventually.
No matter how far I've walked away, it's the sense of familiarity that tells me the way home.
Home, I wana come home.
Every tree I see around me reminds me of home.
HOME. I WANA COME HOME.