I went home for the first time in close to two years and if you’d asked me I’d have told you that it was amazing and I did so much but the truth of it is that I had a torrid time. Home didn’t feel like home anymore. Cape Town did. I spent the whole time wishing I was in Cape Town, with my independence, with my friends, the comfort of an environment though shared was my own. I even missed work. But what really makes home so torrid is that this piece is being written in my car, on a friday night on what is supposedly a night out at the place to be. I’m not enjoying it all. You know why? Because I don’t fucking know anyone here that’s why! Bar perhaps a couple of high school mates who I’ve long lost track of and no longer have anything in common with and the people I was meant to meet have not pitched yet, its 0000hrs, where the fuck could they be at this time anyway? So I wait, patience running low but I wait nonetheless. I’ve reached the point that I only have two friends lefts here, the rest a myriad of half forgotten faces and a horde of unknown entities and possibilities. Maybe that one could have been a good mate hd I stayed, maybe that one would have punched my face at drunken brawl a year ago, maybe that girl would have slept with me a month ago, maybe I worked with that guy and had coffee with that girl, as I said, possibilities. Buts that’s moot now, I left and all I have here is an empty husk, irreparable, long scuttled.. My heart isn’t really here anymore, my life isn’t, I might have been born here but I no longer recognise it. I’ve been wondering lately if I was coming back for good anytime soon, I guess I have my answer now and when that soon is over, I don’t think I’d even consider it. Or maybe it is now that I should be returning when there is still something to salvage. Its a shame really because I always thought this would be home, but as they say home is where the heart is and my heart isn’t here anymore.