Or like a good hug

I can't really call Glasgow my home town.  I can't say with a definitive tone that I really have a home town.  I have no real roots accept in my family.  There's this area - Barren County, Metcalfe County, Monroe County, Cumberland County, Warren County - I guess if I have to say I'm from a place then this would be it.  So when I say I'm going home to visit my family, you can google map Glasgow Kentucky and zoom out just a bit and see where I'm talking about.  Every time I come here I feel like I've passed into the mother fucking twilight zone through revolving doors with murals of hell imprinted on the panes of glass.

But then I get back to Louisville...  Is this home?  Do I belong here?

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Is this what Louisville is?

Today I saw a friend who I have not seen since I shook his hand at my high school graduation.  The father of my childhood crushes, Randy.  He talked about traveling on his bike all across the country with all it's beauty but then, he says, no place is as beautiful as Kentucky. There's something about it that tells you that you are home.  My Mom agreed.  As did my sister and her husband.  They went on about how they can just ~tell~ when they pass into Kentucky that they are home.  Being the way I am - I could tell what they were feeling...  I could tell what they were talking about, but I have not - not a single once - in my life felt that way.  And just like right now as I'm typing this - I almost cried...

As I leave this place tonight or tomorrow, I will feel less and less like I'm being tightly packed into a box...  As I get closer and closer to Louisville and to my apartment I will get less and less of a feeling that I want to scream and run as fast as I can away from this place.  As I breach that county line and my eyes finally gaze upon that glorious sign that says - Louisville Metro - I will exhale and I will feel less stressed.  The first thing I will do when I get home - is turn on my Xbox and find some noise to drown out some of my thoughts (the same thing I do every day).  I might finish cleaning my apartment and then run off to a coffee shop to do some solitary work.  What won't happen... I won't feel like I've been wrapped in a warm blanket fresh from the drier.  I won't be reminded 'why I come back'.  I won't have anyone or anything waiting for me.

I'm not in the mood to argue with you - so - I know that I have friends, a job, and an apartment (albeit fuck-that-place)...  I love my friends.  I have a good job.  Fuck my apartment really.  You know the other stuff though?  Everything that you think about...and do...and love...and care about or care for...  It's funny - and so far no one has really understood this - but I don't know how to do that (not for myself)...  That's why I write. (so that I can do it for my characters and then whine about it?)

I'm in one of those moods where this is going to take a thousand routes and end up a stream of consciousness into endlessness...  This already went in a way different direction than I intended.  I will wrap up by saying this.  I've never felt more comfortable in a place than I do in Louisville, but everywhere I go I feel alone - ghostly - like a fixture...  Time for flows...