My Old House

When I was a little kid, I lived in a really small town that had a large cave system beneath it.  I lived in a dome house.  Any time I think of the places I experienced my childhood in, I get kind of sad.  There's this ppart of me that mourns the childhood I wish I had.  Strange.

The house I lived in has been abandoned for over 10 years now.  I sometimes kind of want to explore the old house, partially out of curiosity, but largely out of a desire to confront it.  I still have dreams about that house.  Not really nightmares, but very... uncomfortable.

I've gone as far as looking up the house on Google Earth.  Looked all over the town, actually.  But I saved screenshots of the house.

The place is... beat down.  Has been since I lived there, but especially after the last few decades.

I think about these things a lot lately.  Don't know why.  Life is pretty great for me.  I just get such a weird emotion that I just can't describe.  It's sad and kind of unsettling, but curiously enough I have an urge to explore it.

I need to stop.  I have an early day tomorrow.