If they should ever ask you where I’m coming from, just tell them that ‘there’ they speak a language that’s different to this one.
And that when I say that I don’t just mean the words or the melody, which sounds like music to me.

That ‘there’ the wind messes up your hair and the level country carries the sound waves of the waves of the ocean and covers every flaw of the width of the land that suggests perfection and freedom but instead year after year tightened its grip around my throat. Also if you want to, you can tell them that I can’t really pronounce the word “width”.

Tell them that when I left ‘there’, I wasn’t sad, that the few I came to love were already gone, except for the three people, who have built their lives there and whom I carry with me no matter where I go.

Tell them that after leaving some chaos followed and that people lie when they tell you that the older you get the more things will make sense. Do they even say that or did I just assume it’d be that way?

Tell them I come from a place of searching, wanting, escaping.

A place of Kartoffelpuffer, Tori Amos, drunk cycling, real love, nights spent sitting underneath a piano and naïve optimism.

Tell them that I don’t know where I’m going and that I never found my safe place. That I’m not sure we need a safe place that maybe being uncomfortable and anxious is what keeps us going. Also tell them that I’m not sure that’s true, that I just tell myself this because it makes me feel better.

That I hope that wherever I go I can learn something, I can have fun, I can ask questions and someone will listen. That I can help if someone needs me to help and that they will tell me their stories about leaving and coming home, about art and what helps them sleep at night.
I hope that every person I meet, every connection I make will bring me closer to who I would like to be. I’m hoping for wine, karaoke, laughter until we cry and inspiration and that I hope to one day know what inspiration means to me.

Tell them that it took me ages to come up with this because the questions of where I’m coming from, what I left behind and where I hope I’m going have always been my Mount Everest. And that I know it's a lame metaphor but that I couldn't come up with a better one and that this happens to me a lot.

Tell them that I spent my time worrying about things that will probably never happen, for example someone asking you about me and that I said to you that I’m not sure that me telling you about myself paints the most accurate picture.

So maybe if they should ever ask you about me, and don’t worry, I don’t think they will, but just in case, you could instead tell them about you, where you think you're coming from and where you might be heading. I think it makes more sense this way. And if you don’t know that’s okay, just forgive yourself like I forgive myself.
Just turn around and leave, come back to me and we’ll have coffee and maybe some day we’ll know more.