I am currently visiting my first homeland (Fraser, Colorado). The land of insatiable beetle's, airlessness, wee mice, 8 foot bongs, elk markings, snowboard painters, inbreeding, girls who cut themselves for fun, game hunting, camel toe, rodeo queens, spandex, farmer tans, sports glasses, fire pits, dreadlocks, one token black family, mountain goats, meth, and pristine views of snow capped mountains bulging romantically into the wide sky. I haven't slept very well, my sinuses have collapsed from a lack of air, I have a fever blister festering on the lower chunk of my lip, and my legs are two stumps rooted firmly inside the ground; each time I pull them upward to walk, my heart thumps as if I had just sprinted for 67 miles.

It's been a while since I have been back. I may be a bit taller, a little more wrinkly in the eyes, a little softer in the heart box, but one thing is certain, I would not want to live in these unbreathable parts again. Aside from family and old friends, it doesn't feel quite like home, more like being trapped inside a scenic snowglobe without water.