You know,
home is supposed to be a warm and friendly place.
It's supposed to be the place where you always feel safe.
It's supposed to be a place where you aren't judged,
ridiculed,
or shamed.
Not my home.
I can be flying on cloud nine,
with music in my heart and in my eyes,
but as soon as I cross the threshold--
I feel the weight settle on my shoulders again.
I hear the echoes of secret tears,
hate,
fighting,
and general misery bombard my mind with glass.
I hate this place.
I can't wait to leave.
