home is not where the heart is

I have never felt so out of place in my own home as I have been feeling these past two days. I am trying to not be so dramatic about the way I have been feeling. I have been trying to be grateful for all the wonderful things I have here. I have a beautiful house in a middle class neighbourhood filled with thousands of things. I should be happy to be home, to see my friends and my family, but I can't get past the feeling that I do not belong here. I don't know who to talk to that will understand. Everything around me feels wrong. I miss El Salvador. I miss its smell, its noises, its people, and just the general feeling that that is where I need to be. When I was there I never thought about what it would be like to come home. I thought somehow that if I ignored the fact that I had to eventually go home that the reality would go away and I would be able to remain in El Salvador forever. I feel so stupid for being so depressed about being home. I don't know if anyone else feels like I'm feeling right now. I hope they are dealing with it better for their sakes, but for mine I greedily wish they were struggling like me. Maybe once I get to talk to someone out loud about all the things I saw and all the things I am feeling, maybe then I will be able to just cope with the fact that I feel like a part of me was stolen in El Salvador.
Two nights ago I told my mother that on the trip I felt like I have had more of a father in Dennis than I have had in my entire life. I miss that feeling. Something about a man caring about you who has no alterior motives, just that he cares about you and wants you to be okay and isn't afraid to show that he cares is the best feeling in the world. I miss our family unit with all the girls and Dennis and Zonnie, as strange as that sounds.
I didn't think that I would feel this ache inside of me when I got home, but it wont go away. I feel so lost.
If someone were to come up to me and be like 'just kidding, this is all a dream you are in El Salvador still' I would want to believe them so much. I wake up in the morning having forgotten that I am not and when I open my eyes I immediately am saddened.
Why can't I just be happy that I had a life changing, fantastic, beautiful experience and accept it as such? Why can't I just move on?