Expatriotism

September 12, 2011

When I am home, I will be better. I’ll eat less, drink less. Make things. Laugh with friends and visit my grandmother. Plant a garden. Read, sew, knit. Get a cat. Hang my pictures and make tea. Paint. Breathe deeply… I won’t feel it any more, that suffocating pressure.

The ugly crunch in my belly will be gone. The sullen lines between my eyebrows will smooth out. I’ll stop touching my face. I will be where I belong at last.

But how will I ever, ever leave him?

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