Home is no longer here. I live in a place that echoes memories of an old life. My walls are bare, there are few pictures, no toys to clean up, no dog hair to sweep and vacuum, people come and go, how many more will come and go? I told myself I wouldn’t have a pity party, I’m a realist after all, shit happens, but when I go down the time line of my life, I’d have to be a fucking idiot NOT to see the pattern. My life has been one big game of hot potato, and I’m the potato. 24 years of back and forth, foster families, being adopted, being disowned, roaming the streets and couch surfing, getting married…. and getting divorced. What about me screams, “DROP THE GOD DAMN POTATO?!” I must be a scorcher.
I don’t love my life or myself any less, I just wonder what everyone else DOESN’T love?
So next year, after I’ve saved up some money, finished the school year, and my lease ends, I will embark on a quest to find home. Who knows, maybe home is in me, and wherever I go, I’ll leave a piece of my soul for others to build their home too ❤
All I know is, it’s time for me to be going.