and that's what's left. a cut out heart and a signed baseball.

everything looks the same. the air smells the same. the cold bites the same as it did last january. all of the buildings are positioned in the same manner they were when i left four weeks ago, except- except there is this hollowness inside of me that cuts ever so sharply. it is as if someone played a cruel joke on me; returning me to a place i was once madly in love with, with people i was madly in love with- but all of those people are gone now.

okay, maybe not all. nevertheless, a lot are gone. but there's this cut out heart that reads, "Keiko you are CUTE!" and there's this baseball. a signed baseball. who knew a baseball and a sliver of paper could weigh so much? and better yet, who knew you could be homesick for people in a place, rather than the place itself? my heart knows now, for it feels the heaviness of both.


maybe that's the point. it isn't where you are. it's who you are with that makes all the difference. yeah, i think that's it. that's what all of this is trying to teach me.

and i get that. i get it. it's just, i wish there were a less painful way to learn.