Watch Your Words

Dear Mom,

I'm so afraid to admit to you
That I love it there-
Three thousand miles away;
The dry, drought-ridden, dead, ugly, desolate, lonely, beautiful place I called a temporary home.
I'm torn.
It's part of who I am.
Half of me hates the very thought of it,
Despises it and never wants to see its lifeless, insomnia-weathered face again.
The other half wants it back,
Can't stop dreaming about its fluorescent veins
And the music that listened to me.
No matter what I do,
I'll always run back to it,
And I think that's what you've always feared,
Isn't it?
You don't want me to leave you.
Don't worry, I'm not leaving.
Not yet.
By the time I realize it hurts,
I'll be home..
Wherever that turns out to be.
Dear mom,
I think what I fear most
Is letting you down.
Letting anyone down, truthfully.
Don't take this personally,
It is my fault anyway.
I love you.

Sincerely..
A disappointment.