jump ship mid way

I've often thought about what it means to come home to someone. When you come home to someone, there's comfort and consistency. A dog's tail wagging, rich smells from the kitchen and maybe a kid slamming the screen door to escape outside into the air and wilderness and unknown. But coming home feels like too many slices of other peoples dreams. I get lost in them. They're flip books from another era and a different group of people sitting around