small town

it's a peculiar feeling, visiting your childhood home. outside the familiar house is the small town where you grew up in, similar to the countless number of other small towns in this country where the majority of them are just that, generic and unimpressive and yet each a world of their own. all the places that you know probably better than any other only because you spent so much time in them; the somewhat strange mixture of fondness and dislike. hate and love are too strong words to describe your feelings towards this town, and this fact alone probably tells more about the nature of it than any lengthy description ever could. 

running on the streets of the town on a quiet sunday morning when the sky is grey and bleak makes you feel almost nostalgic; the empty shop windows, telling their own tale of the direction this town is heading into makes you feel almost sad. you see the town differently now, mostly because you yourself are different; when you were a child this was the extent of your world, and even when you got a bit older and started to realise that it isn't, in fact, so, this was still the place you returned to. now, when it is the place you visit and home is somewhere else you can't see it the same way anymore; and you never will.

but even so, this is where you are from; and you are the way you are partly because of it, whether you like it or not. you can't erase it, and why would you even want to, really; after all, you do have a soft spot for the place, in spite of yourself.