la guerre de la coeur et l'esprit

as i fail miserably at my attempts to compose a short story en français, i find myself in a distantly familiar mood - homesick. i haven't really missed diest (and all that it entails) in a while. maybe it's because i'm so focused on my own exciting future (rather than my past, or my "potential" future with he-who-we-call-"him"), but for some time now, i've not been lost in the narrow cobblestone alleys, i've not been up on that roof with my view. i've been here. no ... that's untrue. i've been in new york. i've been on stage. i've been in a studio. i've been writing my first book. but i haven't been there, there where my heart has settled. my heart is in diest, but my spirit is in new york. and yet, somehow, i find myself for just a moment back home. back in a café, back with my scrapbooks. back with a full heart and a full mind. back in my own moments of completion. but was i truly complete? will i ever be? if i can never have both my spirit and heart entirely, will i ever be whole?