Home, as always.

6 years later, I visited the same exact place but one thing that hit me, I don't remember a thing. I knew I have been to the same place,  I knew I am walking back to the same street, I knew I had ice cream from the same ice cream parlor but heck, I do not remember a single thing that happened. The power of blocking those memories, I reckon. If there is something that I have learned from having my heart broken is that; I have mastered the art of blocking memories, be it bad or good. It is much more easier to not remember anything, rather than being sad about not being able to relive those good memories again and being even more sad thinking about having to endure those painful ones. 

I remember my Houston trip, step by step. I remember my London trip, each one of them. I remember my LA trip, every step of the way but I don't remember this one trip because my mind and my heart stayed back. It stayed with that one person that still feels like home, even until today. The only one that can make me write long sappy posts. He makes the one that came after, look like a temporary plaster. 

I don't know what I want, but I know I have never wanted anything more than this. 

Favourite piece of the trip.