Something About Going Home

I left home at seventeen. As I packed up my childhood room, a lump in my throat, I knew I would be back “home” in just four short years; after I finished my schooling. Four years turned into seven turned into eighteen. It’s been eighteen years since I’ve lived in Tennessee or since I’ve been around family and childhood friends. Time flies when you’re inventing yourself.

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1Psuedonym

1Psuedonym

Writing about what I see in this world. Amateur scribbler with a curiosity for new experiences.