Shut up and listen to me.

I am, and always will be broken.
I've changed, everyone changes, that's life.
I am a cynical, overtired, crying mess and that is the most beautiful thing I can say about myself right now.

Classic, I know.

I can't love myself yet.
But I do not need to right now.

Let me feel this pain for what it is and let it drag me through the cement until I freeze in my despair.

I will come back when they drill me out of my shock.

But as for my presence, I left that at home.
And I left home with someone else, and someone else took home on a backpacking journey with "Don't Stop Believing" by Journey blasting through their senior year headphones.

I left home, and home left me, what is the difference? Can't you see I'm struggling to know where my home is.

I need to pick back up, and when I do home will come back to me.

Because shouldn't home be here?

Shouldn't I be here?

Home should be with me, I should be with me, I should BE, I should see the presence of God and be present in awe of that.

I should be home.

Home is with them, and they are not with me.

Home should be mine to have, and theirs to rent.

Home should be here.
Home is me.

Home is here.

HOME is HERE.

Home is here **** it.

HOME IS HERE!



Hip hop and punk rock played its way out of my playlist when they paid their last rent and left for a new house.

Home is empty.

The house is mine now.

Home is mine.
Home is me.

Home is here.