Yes, it is like this. And it never quite goes away- the yo-yoing of being completely and utterly content with where you are one minute and having serious second thoughts about why in the hell we went so far away the next. The strangest is going "home" and feeling less connected to that than the familiarity (and psychosis) of NYC. When I say "it's at home" i often confuse people because i so fluidly use it in reference to both Seattle and NYC. Seems so strange to be a nomad sometimes. Especially when it's damn cold. But then again, sometimes true love can be realized in absence the it, even when it is a place.
Let's start a club- we can call ourselves the w. coast nomads, we can get together and listen to Tupac and Warren G, say hella as much as we want, and reminisce about what it felt like to see the pacific ocean...
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Let's start a club- we can call ourselves the w. coast nomads, we can get together and listen to Tupac and Warren G, say hella as much as we want, and reminisce about what it felt like to see the pacific ocean...
-Lynda
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