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We decided class just wasn't in the cards that day; before it even started. We didn't need words to express our need of an escape. It was just understood. We walked out of that lecture hall with one destination in sight. The exit sign above the stairwell was beckoning us forward. We drew closer with every step not saying a word until we were as far away from the classroom as possible. Once on city streets you looked at me, you didn't ask where but you looped my arm in yours, nodded your head and started leading the way as if I had given you a specific destination. 

Being that it was 1:30 in the afternoon on a weekday in the middle of Wall Street there were people everywhere. You tugged me this way and that, dodging those uptight suited business people. Our feet knew the way to the other side of the island. The water on the west calling us. It was our spot. Our spot for days like this where being where we were supposed to be felt wrong. We try to ignore the fact that days like this happen a little too often. I can't remember why we started doing this but I do remember the significance in doing it. And it's the same every time. The reasons that draw us to the water may be similar yet different. But the feeling of being there is always the same. As we look out onto New Jersey over the water we sit there, sometimes we talk, other times we don't. Our conversations are either serious and deep or light and fluid. 

But on this day as we sat there we talked. You started. Saying "I left because I felt I was trapped, that I could find more out there. Yet I feel the same way here. Just dying to get out." Which is funny you said that because I had been feeling the same lately. I told you, "same. I didn't belong there, yet I don't belong here. Which fucking sucks because I'm from here. I never thought I'd feel so lost in a place I'm supposed to consider home." You didn't say anything for a while. Neither did I. I was so caught up in my own thoughts that when I looked over at you I was surprised to see you look so upset. Although I wanted to ask why, we've been here enough times for me to know to give you time, that you'd share if you were willing. Instead I leaned into you, letting your body support mines. Eventually your body sagged and I couldn't tell who's body was holding up who's. 

After a while of sitting like that you spoke, "I'm so tired of feeling this way. So fucking sick of hating everything. Those weeks when I go home I consider not coming back. And when I'm here I think about not going back there even if it is for a week. I don't want to be here or there. So much for home right?" 

That day happened almost 3 years ago. Today you're in neither of those places and every time we talk you seem happier. You found a form of peace some where in the middle, literally. It took some time and experiences I'm sure we would rather forget but we've come a long way. We've learned to make a home in places we've never thought we'd be. Away from a place where we're from and the place we thought we wanted to be. Who would of thought right? Life just has a way of working its self out.

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