Hart of Dixie makes me so homesick I want to die.

wyvern-fodder:

Parts of me have never wanted to stay in the South because I always felt like I was better than that. I always felt like I didn’t belong because I wasn’t some hick who hunted or liked country music. I never wanted to belong because I thought I was better than the people from the South. 

Being away like this for so long and having Mardi Gras just pass and missing home this much makes me realize that I’m no better than anyone else who loves the South. I may not think the South Will Rise Again or cheer for the Tide or the Tigers but I love it nonetheless. I used to hate the fire ants and the dusty towns with the broken down houses. I used to hate the fruit and vegetable vendors and the loud trucks. I used to hate the scrappy pine trees and the old trailer parks. But honestly, I’d give anything to see them again. To walk through Smithfield or the Lower Ninth.

I love New Orleans and I love Savannah and I love Charleston and I love Mobile and I love Montgomery and I love Sunset Beach and I love Myrtle Beach and I miss them all so much. 

I just want to be home.

I want to be walking the streets of beautiful New Orleans watching all the tourists on their ghost tours and drinking chicory coffee. 

I want to be enjoying good southern dining at a restaurant on the River Walk in Savannah.

I want to be walking the markets in Charleston and talking to the old women who still remember their grandparents who were slaves and telling magnificent stories of growing up in the South.

I want to be sitting with my parents on a screened porch watching the sunset over the marsh at our beach eating shrimp and grits and drinking beer.

I don’t want to be in dirty Melbourne where everything is covered in graffiti, nobody spares you a second glance, you follow the public transport timetable instead of the cafe timetable, the food is all covered in some sort of sauce and undercooked, the coffee is all instant, the old black women are wary of white people and don’t even make eye contact, the birds and drunks are so loud you can never just enjoy a quiet evening, and nobody knows what the hell grits are. 

I think I’d like Melbourne much more if I was just here for a week or two instead of 5 months. It’s just not the place for me. I want to be home. I want to be in the South.

RACHEL

(Source: fuckingevans)