[22.11.2022]

you spend enough time away from home and you start to forget how it feels to sleep in your wooden double bed.

you forget which way the kitchen sink knob turns and you forget how many steps it takes to climb the stairs.

the sound of your little brother's baby laughs at 4pm feels so far away and the presence of your father at the dining table starts to fade.

your bathroom stops smelling like your shampoo and your white study table is covered in dust.

the clothes you left fit different and the books on your shelf are remnants of your happiest teenage years.

you know your sister isn't in the next room on the phone with her friends and your mother isn't knocking on your door at 11am telling you to wake up and take a shower.

you come home only to feel like a stranger who— not so long ago, spent her days laughing and crying and screaming within these four walls. a piece of you just stepped out the front door and never came back home.