i rode the train all the way to the end of the line one night. i tried to convince myself i'd just missed my stop, but the truth was closer to my heart: i'd forgotten where home was.

because if home was really where the heart was, where did that leave mine? i knew, somewhere deep down, that it wasn't yours. it couldn't be. this was something overwhelming, yes, but to call it love — that was foolish. and yet nowhere felt right, except beside you.