.a written note.

I am on my way home. No matter where I go, as I get nearer to our house, people I see in the way seem to be known, familiar even if they really aren't. I remember how outgoing of a person I'd been, but last two years seemed to have changed everything. Seemed to have changed me in the first place. If I have changed, everything else has too, bit by bit. I'll remember how these years like some pages from my diary. I've reached home. My home. Yes, I know how it feels like to call something as yours. Completely yours.