Dear Lily,
It's funny the way somethings just never change. Even the park I grew up in is still more or less intact. The paint slightly more chipped off and more graffiti covering the boards. But still the same.
Meanwhile, the new additions have been broken countless times to the extent where the main components have simply been taken off for the winter to prevent further vandalisms. Perhaps they'll be put back up in the summer when the park is occasionally visited by local children on the warm, summer days.
The rocks where I sit typing this seems to express how I feel perfectly. Once so huge and daunting as I scrabbled their cool, coarse surface in a pathetic attempt to climb atop them. Now, I can mount them in a single backwards push through my hands. They seem much smaller, when in fact I'm just bigger.
It's the same with Mansfield. A small town that once felt like a huge city beneath my tiny feet. Impossible to get anywhere alone. But 3 years later it seems so... small. I've seen so much more and gained more experiences. Some good. Some bad.
It feels good being back though, the Sun warming my skin and the cherry blossoms drifting from the trees. The feel of freedom is like finding an oasis and days of agonising thirst.
I'm still unsure how I feel about everything though. It was 7 weeks yesterday that my dad told me pack my things and leave. His malicious glare as I told him that I rang my mum still haunts my my mind and tortures my sleep.
A few kids enter the park. They look about 9 yet they act like they're 16. Swearing, blasting music from YouTube and the girls wearing see through leggings and crop tops. It's kind of sad really that they can't relish being children in the way most do. I really wish that I could've. At least I got glimpses whilst staying at my Nan and Grandad's every now and again.
I miss you though. I miss your cheery smile and knowing eyes. The faraway look you pull when considering something.
I'm sorry I couldn't say bye.
