Maybe home is not a person, maybe home is just a feeling after all; and maybe this is the reason why I feel that I don't belong - to a place nor to a person.

I've lost a lot of things that matter and my senses went with them. I can no longer feel anything.

Now home is just a memory.

And even when we're worlds apart, my soul reaches out to you.

There's something fascinating and subtly terrifying about thunderstorms - the way it touches the ground and the way it cracks the sky open. It's like the angels want to reach out to us, but whenever they get closer, something gets destroyed.

Stop staring at me like that. Your eyes, they pierce through me, they cut me deep. You're searching for something that's not in me.

Stop. Don't step closer. Do not move.
Go.