Home is a place you grow up wanting to leave, and grow old wanting to get back to~John Ed Pearce

Well then, I almost forgot to write this. I guess I should do it before think about it too much to make any sense.

I was thinking and talking tonight to my friend L about how friendships change. And this is probably a deeper subject than I’m capable of dealing with right now.

Honestly I don’t want to, I’d rather just chalk this up to yet another life lesson and not think about it too much..

I didn’t believe it when I was told “you can’t go home again.”

Because for awhile I did.

It reminded me of when I was the new girl in the SF netgoth crowd. One who wasn’t ugly or stupid. And then I became commonplace.

Once that happens the drama begins, hmmm.

And fade to black, cut to:

I moved back to F’ville and I wasn’t insane in possession of three heads (either on my body or in my  luggage) so  I was taken in.

And it was GREAT. And then we didn’t mesh. I farked up, they  farked up,  then



well we don’t have so much in common any more do we? I guess that’s it really.

There could be other things, but I think I’ll stop here. Discretion is the better part of valor.

Still my home with or without them I think. It’s the people AND the place

And we have other friends, some of them old friends still, some of them more recent.

I guess we all changed. You can’t go home again because it isn’t the same place and you aren’t the same person and neither are your friends.



The Family Crest – Songs From The Valley Below – The Valley Below