So here I am, again. Perhaps it was the dreary weather, perhaps it was failing to go the celebration that I felt it so necessary to come back for, perhaps it was the lackluster reception.
My mother was right, I can't really come and go as I please, here. There is no where to go, no one to go with, no means of going.
And no matter what we do, in the end it is never enough. If I could do it all again, I would do it differently. I have regrets.
So, here I am again.