Woke up for the 3rd day in a row not knowing where I was. I looked outside and it was snowing. I remembered how cold it was before I left, and for a while I still couldn't figure out where I was.
Having being used to rushing from place to place, I found a different pattern in my travels this time. I finally learned how to connect to human beings, and how to be attached and form deeper connections with places and people. I could travel around the world in 80 days just ploughing forward like a raging bull. But that's pointless.
Since leaving Brooklyn, which somehow became the longest place I've stayed in, I've been looking for a constant in each unfamiliar surrounding. Drifting from environment to environment all my life, somewhere along the way I lost all ability to form bonds. Which is why I stayed in New York for so long, despite the constant urge to pack up and leave. I swore not to go anywhere until I fixed my soul, because I've seen so much yet experienced so little.
And somehow through this, Brooklyn became the first "home" I'd ever had. I knew more about it than my so called "hometowns" of Taipei or Boulder, and I formed the deepest connections I've ever had in my life.
Then I left. Not just for a short break, but possibly for good. And I don't think that realization ever sank in. I sat down to write a few emails, and I began to suspect that the reason I don't keep direct regular contact with people is that I just start getting all fucking sentimental. But it hit me anyways. All of a sudden, I miss everyone.
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