missing

homesickness is not just for a familiar place

but for a familiar part of myself

wanderlust is not just for an undiscovered place

but for an undiscovered part of myself

wherever i go, there i am,

missing

I wrote this poem maybe an hour ago after an exhausting day/week. It’s funny how my brain and my heart are cycling through so many different emotions that it’s hard to keep track of and I can barely answer the question: “How are you?” Struggling to balance emotions, I believe, is a sign that a person is keeping too much inside and not putting enough on paper. I haven’t been writing regularly because I’m studying for the GRE. The test is next weekend and I’m so happy to get it over with. It’s put my life on hold and my novels at a standstill. Of course when ideas and characters’ voices pop into my head, I immediately write/type something down or save a voice note on my phone. I’m always afraid of missing the important things in life. I suppose I will always have that fear, no matter how much older I get. 

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