The last few months there's been something a little off that I couldn't quite put my finger on, or fix. I eventually realised that it was homesickness, but not for somewhere I could visit, or even move back to, but instead for a place that no longer exists, or perhaps never did in the first place.
I don't really mention it very often on here, if at all, but a year and a half ago I moved to a brand new town where I knew no one apart from my partner. It's the town he grew up in, so whilst he has family and school friends surrounding him, I've struggled with feeling really isolated.
But what I've struggled more with is the fact that there's no place I can go back to where I feel truly at home. A couple of years ago my parents separated, and I don't speak about it on here because it's not my life that I'm then banging on about, it's theirs, and they don't necessarily want it broadcast across the internet. However, even before the split, my home wasn't this paragon of homeliness, it was a mentally toxic place for me, and I rarely feel as though I miss that house that I lived in for the first 18 years of my life. I didn't even go back to see it one last time before it was sold.
Instead, I'm homesick for somewhere that doesn't exist, a multitude of somewheres all at once. I'm homesick for the smell of my mum's roast dinner wafting through the house on a Sunday. Homesick for my sister chasing me up the stairs whilst I squealed in terror. For my favourite takeout of all time in my uni town (Viallis in Leamington is dreamy just FYI). For a friend that lived a few doors down in that same town. For old jobs, and people I loved working with at them. For living in a town where I recognise a street name when someone mentions it. For the bunk beds me and my sister shared. For those trips to Maccies for a McFlurry with my dad.
There's a lot of things I don't miss about all of these places. But I'm homesick for a place that feels like home, and I don't think I've truly found one yet.