I miss a lot of things
I miss my old friends, I want them back
I miss the idea of home, because now each time I go back home I couldn't find what I miss
I guess what it really means is I just miss the idea of home, or simply my childhood
I miss being anonymous in a strange city that I've never been before, avoiding bitter truths
I miss sitting on the fresh green grass of a beautiful Londonese park, dolce far niente
I miss being able to dance like no one's watching and sing like nobody's listening, ignoring everything
I miss high school, I miss the times when people arrange everything for you
I miss being a fat kid who loves cake, and nobody reminds me of how much calories I've had
I miss reading such pure and honest books like The Catcher in The Rye or The Perks of Being a Wallflower
I miss spending money on expensive magazines without noticing it'd only end up in dusty piles
I miss the feeling of receiving compliments from strangers, because they're the honest ones
I miss my appreciation towards art and wickedly cool things
I miss the beauty and the chicness that people seem to forget here
I miss the innocent people who encourage me to dream so high, shoot the moon so I'll land among the stars
I miss my imagination
I miss you
I miss us
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