Love Bites: Placing & Replacing

It always feels strange, setting foot on the ground of the estate you grew up on. I don’t live too far away from this place on the outskirts of the city that was home to me for more than half of my life, but I rarely come back. My family don’t live here anymore. The friends I once had here have either gone to start new lives too, or we have drifted apart, with my path taking me out of the estate as their feet stayed. Every time I come back, I try to describe the overwhelming feeling that engulfs me. Sometimes I think it’s love, other times nostalgia, but whatever it is, it's an entirely different feeling than the one I used to feel walking through these streets.  

The estate isn't exactly a suburb, it’s something different, unique to the UK. An amalgamation of housing, retail parks, countryside and industrial works, with absolutely nothing to do. A collection of things that are necessary for the city to function, but too unsightly to stick on the tourist leaflets.  

As a teenager, I felt completely suffocated here. I was queer, I was angry, I liked heavy metal and the late night movies on Film4. I wanted my world to feel so much bigger than this place would allow; I couldn't wait to get out.  

But as my foot hits the pavement for the first time in a year, I get that strange overwhelming feeling again. One that gently tells me that I was too harsh on this place. That it’s as much a part of me now as all those big other things I’ve been lucky enough to experience. It’s complicated, but it’s home.