...I have 12 days left.

I have just 12 days left. 12 days until I leave....12 days until I have a chance to make things right again. 12 days until I have a chance to relive what I experienced and live what I never had a chance to know. 12 days until I go back to the one place where I actually didn't feel left out or too weird or like I wasn't part of anything, but rather like I was home. Home. What a concept. The house is here, but the home seems to be missing. What if I find it there? What if I find that missing part that makes things feel like home? Even now, two years later, I still don't feel at home again here. I feel out of place. Like I'm on exchange again. It's different. None of it actually feels real.

  Nothing feels real anymore.

Nothing except for the knowing that I'm getting on a plane to go halfway across the world and several time zones away in 12 days actually seems real."It's all I know." Am I making a mistake? In going back? In leaving here, if only for two months and a week? Is it a huge mistake? For the love of god, I hope not. The promising hopeful idea of this trip is what's kept me going, kept me hoping.