First.

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One day when you’re tired of all your travels, of all the friends you’ve made and of all the lovers you’ve collected, you’ll come home.

You’ll walk in silently and you’ll find yourself in everything you see. A little in that tiny weed that managed to grow despite the best landscaping. A little in those carnations that are now drying on your table. A little in the faded wall and the part that is still bright and lively.

You’ll find faults and you’ll find strengths in yourself. You might not recognise the face in the mirror, but you’ll recognise the eyes, not a day older than 19, bright and lively.

You’ll find yourself in a million places in a million things. Like that forgotten rose, that you had once placed between a favourite book, it’ll all come back to you. And when you sit down, when the weight of it all starts to weigh you down, it’ll slowly dawn on you.

You were your first love and your first heartbreak.
It was you. It has always been you.

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