the in between

Familiar streets. Same old patterns.

I’ve walked them hundreds of times

sometimes sober,

sometimes drunk,

always searching for something more.

I’ve lived in all kinds of places before.

They’re all different, of course,

different rhythms, different skies,

and different versions of me.

Each one carries a spirit.

An energy you can feel as soon as you arrive.

And still, none ever truly felt like home.

Sometimes I catch a glimpse of who I was in these streets:

Late nights walking home from nowhere,

Chasing highs, chasing quiet.

And sometimes I wonder what would’ve happened if I’d stayed.

Maybe it’s not about fitting in.

Maybe it’s about finding the places

where you can disappear and still feel seen.