I have written before about the way in which you must lose yourself 
Before you can come home
And I have spoken of it as though it is a romantic wandering 
Like being lost in the redwoods 
But it is instead the feeling of drowning in torrential November downpour 
Trying to cross flooded intersections 
In a city of one way streets 

It is 4pm sunsets 
And 4am alarms, sobbing over the heater vent in a room sparsely decorated
With only the things I could fit into the back of my car
It is the feeling of dead car batteries 
And the way the key clicks in the lock,
But the engine does not start

These days consist of forgetting the lyrics to all my favorite songs
And no longer enjoying them when I remember
Unable to dance anymore to the melodies 
I thought I’d love forever

I say often that I have not changed
I have simply grown around myself
But growth is so painful and awkward
Parts of me have been squished into corners
Or crushed under pressure
Mangled 
Not gone, but somehow still missing
And I am left here unraveling
Unpacking
Moving each year
Trying to build a home in myself