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Beige Boxes

You Can Never Go Home Again

By Bex JordanPublished about a year ago Updated about a year ago 1 min read
home (Photo: @UmaSabirah)

I'm sitting here

In my car

Driving around my

Hometown having

A really fun combination

Panic attack and

Existential crisis...

Because I'm realizing

This place I come from

Is made entirely of

Beige, square boxes

And I am neither


Nor square

(Nor have I ever been).

I'm a rainbow and

I can't even think in

Straight lines

No wonder I

Could never fit in

Though I tried to

Squish myself into

Something that was

Easy to digest

Whilst inside I


There's so much I

Miss, but I don't belong

Here, and I never did

So who does that make me?

What do I decide of

My identity

When I'm not

Seeing myself reflected

In someone else's


In this place?

I drive away,

Unable to connect

To the things I

Thought I used to know...

(and you don't even

turn to see me


sad poetryheartbreak

About the Creator

Bex Jordan

She/They. Writer. Gardener. Cat-Lover. Nerd. Always looking up at the sky or down at the ground.

Profile photo by Román Anaya.

Instagram: @UmaSabirah

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Comments (1)

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  • Quincy.Vabout a year ago

    A powerful and evocative expression of feeling disconnected and alienated from one's hometown and the struggle to reconcile one's true identity with the expectations of others.👌🤘👍

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