Still Packed

It's been a week and hardly anything except for some souvenirs have left my luggage.
The idea of taking things out makes me feel as if I'd be unpacking the last 6 months.
I can't stop thinking and talking about Europe because it's what helps me believe that it wasn't just a dream.
I feel like my aging dog. Locked up in a cage of comfort.
I'm in a place I know so well yet it feels more foreign than any place I've ever been.
I know now more than ever, this is not where I belong. This is where I'm too comfortable and idle.
I feel like an enigma. One moment I'm content and glad I'm back. The next I'm depressed and feel caged.
I used to get a feeling when I was younger that there was something that felt like I had a hole in my being. I felt incomplete and stuck. I felt as if where I was wasn't real and I was watching my life go by as it followed the pattern and all the rules.
Now I feel that same hole. Only I feel more lost then ever. Where that hole was filled by the self-realization of the need for adventure, love, and change, now it's empty because I feel as if I've accomplished all that and lost my direction in life.
I had an idea of where I wanted to end up, but now, more than ever, I want to do too many things at once to the point where I'm lost.
I don't know what I want to do, where I want to go, or who I want to be.
I just know I want out fast and to get rid of these feelings of longing because it just hurts too much. There are only so many shows and movies I can watch to escape this reality.
My heavy heart is still packed away in those suitcases, help me unpack.