Homesick

I'm feeling a little homesick, for a place I've never been.
Feeling like I might fit in if I only knew where to look.
But these words I speak and glances I give away,
They belie the heart that beats beneath.

If you think I'm well-adjusted, could you please tell me why?
I feel stretched thin, like lace through the arc of time.
I'm told that I'm doing well, I tell myself this too,
But underneath all the words, is there any truth?

I miss the me that could laugh so free,
Like nothing was wrong in the world.
Is laughter its own selfishness?

If so, I want to be selfish.

Do you fit with me?
In a word, yes.
But is there any truth to this?

Find a place to make-believe that you fit in,
It's the closest you'll ever get.
And if you feel a little homesick, for a place you've never been?
Maybe it's time to make-believe a little harder.