Always always torn.

I think I am fated for the rest of my days to be leading a double life. Ever since my parents' divorce at the age of nine, I've been split between two homes, two families, two ways of life. In high school, it became two groups of friends who represented two different aspects of my personality. In college, it became my life when I was away and my life at home.

For a long time, I've had this dream, this yearning to find myself a little apartment here in Huntsville, to decorate it, to fill it with my books and music and art, and with the people I love, make it my home. I think a big part of that longing had to do with always feeling so torn between one life and another, and wanting to make one perfect place, a base to lay my heart down and let it take root. But for a long time now, I've been suspecting college has killed that dream for me.

I lived in the city for over three years. I made friends, developed routines, found favourite places, built memories. I made myself another life. My whole time there, part of me was longing to return to this life here. But now that I'm back, and I knew this would happen, a new part of me I grew while I was away longs for the life I led there. A life of back and forth is always how I've dealt with this sort of situation in the past. And technically speaking, it seems like a totally feasible solution. But having lived this way for as long as I have, I've come familiar with the flaws. The main one being this. Part of what makes a life a home is a commitment to it, I think. And when you spend half your time somewhere else, life there goes on without you. You miss things. Children grow, trees fall, people live and love and change. And each time you come back, as much as you feel you are coming home, you feel like an outsider as well, because of all you missed.

I suppose this is the life I'm fated to. Many people live this way, I'm hardly unique. And I suppose, with time, I'll get used to it. Here's hoping.