Coming home is filled with a bittersweet incomprehensible emotion I can’t quite fathom. I think I’m happy to be going home, but on the other hand behind me lies more freedom and happiness than I ever find where I’m going.

I leave behind a weekend filled with booze and music, pretty boys in trilby hats and dorky boys stealing my hat, and the realisation that I desire my cousin’s family with a greater intensity than the love I have for my own. All that lies ahead is lonely nights wrapped in blankets and an awkward dinner with my dad, where I shall most likely be thinking of my uncle and how much better a father he would be than my own.

Is it a sin to think like this? To favour someone else’s unconditional love to that which I already receive? Something tells me that is so, but I don’t stop or think about stopping.

I fall asleep, dreaming of a better life behind me, and see Satan in my dreams.
“I can give you all you want in return for your service.”
Without thinking I agree.
400years of labour and no regret.