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Full Circle

by kills

2012. 2012 was the first time I came here. First time I set my eyes on the town called Elliot Lake. Unimpressive at first glance, and even at third. But it had a way of growing on me. Like a bad dream that had an encouraging meaning underneath the fear. The rehab center looks just like how I left it – except at night it seems to have a haunting glow of a bittersweet nostalgia.

The Oaks center. The family program. If there’s rehab for growing up in a fucked up broken home – this is the one. Program was a joke and it was horrible all around. Fuck rehab centers. One size fits all never works. I know that now. Full well. As I come full circle I know full well. I know the fear and panick. I know the sliver of hope, for i have scrutinized it relentlessly. Elliot Lake, I haven’t missed you. But you’ve been calling out to me. What do you want from me? Don’t act like you know something I don’t.

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