The Right Question

It is generally agreed upon that honesty is the best policy but in practice, honesty is the thing that stops the throat most violently.

I never know the right thing to say or rather, I never know the right thing to say when saying something seems most important. The right words will come to me later on, delayed by fear or emotion or carelessness.

When I talk to my mother on the phone, I only tell her the very best things. She gets the highlight reel of my new life because I feel ashamed that I could easily break down crying over silly things like missing my bright green bedroom that no longer exists or how I really want her to make mashed potatoes and pumpkin pie when I come home for Thanksgiving. She deserves the stories about my great adventures to the Field Museum or how I'm making lots of new friends.

The truth is, I'm homesick but what happens if I say those words aloud? If I keep them in my mouth, I let the feeling stew. It's not that I don't love where I am. I am madly in love with this city but I want to share it with so many people that I cannot. I am homesick because my home is with the people I love and I am sick of missing them. I am sick of dropped Skype calls, choppy voicemails, and rushed text messages. I want to love people I can see and I don't know when I'll reach that point here.

I just want to know that this is okay
but more so, I don't want to feel like this at all.
I want this to feel like home and I want to be able to admit that so much more.