It is exciting, refreshing
a new start that my heart has yearned for
a hope that I have finally been able to grasp.
I land in a new city
loud, daunting, overwhelming.
It is alive,
far more alive than I have ever felt.
I learn the train lines,
and the grid system.
I cry on the train lines,
and on the grid system.
The wind feels different,
Everything starts to.
I feel alone. I feel scared.
I realise I can’t run home anymore.
I call the place I sleep my apartment.
Never home.
I feel pure, unreserved loneliness.
I never had before.
I sob when I leave my first adult-life friends,
my first found family,
Across the bridges, as I fly over the lights.
Such was the first pain.



Image source: unsplash.com

That was a trial run,
I think to myself.
Not real life.
I still don’t know who I am,
Why I am here.
I leave in pursuit of this purpose
(later I find it, I think).
Southern hemisphere heat burns
as I yearn for what I left behind,
what I so consciously refused to call home.
for weeks I wish I were still there.
without realising,
it dies out,
that desire.
I learn new trains,
new names,
new streets.
it’s different,
there is a sweetness to this pain,
a purity.
I am understanding, less blind to my fears.
I face them.
I write.
I learn to make friends,
I make good friends.
We watch films and drive across bridges.
I move around a lot; it is not a home really.
I sob again when I leave.
But of fear.
To leave these honey-like months.
Such was the second pain.



Image Source: unsplash.com

It is real this time.
I can’t run to my real home anymore.
Though I lose sense of what that word really means
It is strange this time.
It feels as though it should be more daunting.
Perhaps it is desensitisation, perhaps it is growth.
I learn, I write, I change.
I think about big things.
I walk in new parks and
don’t take the train very much,
though the growing pains find balm in riding them.
I can’t find friends.
The loneliness,
now almost a comfort,
settles like dust on my life.
If I don’t move it won’t move.
I lose good habits.
I forget what I’ve learnt.
Childhood feels too far.
Such is the third pain.

Featured image source: unsplash.com