Home is

After spending a month in the town that would be the dictionary definition of a hometown, in the house I grew up in, I find it necessary to evaluate what exactly the word home means to me. And after doing so, I can honestly say that it holds absolutely no sentimental meaning. The word home to me, simply means a place where I have a bed and a place to shower. Home is a place where I feel comfortable. Home is not where the heart is. I do not consider Flint, Michigan my home, and do not consider Marquette, Michigan my home. I feel as though I have no home, my heart belongs nowhere, and my heart belongs to the millions of places I have never been. Perhaps one day I will find a place where I get that weird mushy sentimental feeling people sing and write about. But for now, having a, "home" seems to me like a thing that would just hold me back. Honestly it seems a bit crazy that a person could become so attached to a place. I haven't found that, but I think that is all for the best. I honestly did not hate my stay in Flint as much as I have in the past and I believe it is because I came to Flint, knowing that I no longer belonged here. I came knowing that just as I have moved on so did those I once held close. I came braced to spend a lot of alone time, I came with a lot of running to do. I felt better here feeling like I was a guest instead of a local. I am glad I came here for a month, and I am thankful for the really good friends I got to see, and I am thankful for the not so good friends I got to see. I know the people who matter to me will always be in my life, no matter where my heart has set up its temporary home. The validation I sought from my hometown, I would now refuse, it would make me very happy to not be associated with this city on a regular basis. For the first time I can say without the bitterness I normally feel, that I cant wait to get out of Flint, not because I hate it here, but because I know without a doubt, that I do not belong here. I am trying to say this in the least condescending way possible, but I am too good to stay in Flint, too good to return to Flint, and too good to use growing up in Flint as a crutch. I deserve more and I will have no trouble getting more. I have yet to find a home and I am okay with that. I really am. Flint was a home at a time in my life, but that time has passed. I am swimming in open water, but I have no plans to return to the shore of the deserted island I left. (That last part was because I can never resist a metaphor).