Home, that warm place, has suddenly become so cold. I can’t recognise it anymore. Sometimes I wish I was not a part of it.
A few years back, that dark place meant light to me. Good food, comfort of a good mattress, familiar smells and sounds, the warm 3 PM sunlight through the northwest window on a winter vacation afternoon, my trophies and transformation pictures and less complications.
Now, it’s just walls. You talk but no one listens. How did this happen? Expectations? Or did the truth unfold? Did we take her youth away? She can’t go back in time. She can’t do things she wanted to. She can’t mend a few mistakes. If she could, would she be happy?
I am scared. My demons eat me, no one else. I am scared that they don’t want to help me. Silence is beautiful. But they don’t understand that. They paint with chaos.
I long for my home. Where I can kill the beast. Where I can have my people. Where I can feel the most safe. And sleep without the horrific vivid images crawling into my head. Because even though I will always love you, I don’t relate to you anymore. You’ve pushed me away, destroyed a few good childhood memories. I am sure I have done my share of damage too.
Now, I don’t want to go there. I belong with me. Somewhere else. And I will find my home. Someday.