You said

There is no home.

When I was a toddler, I say toddler because I don't remember what year it was, was I five? Six? Two? I don't know. All I know was that we were all over the country, trying to find a home, a stable one.

Almost all of these stories starts on the day I was born, I think I was quiet when I got out of the womb, was I slapped so I can scream? I've got no clue, my brain was barely the size of an orange.

Born on the little house in Napolan, yes I was born at a house, on the house? Not at the hospital. I don't really get the reason, maybe because of bills and my parents were barely getting enough food for themselves.

That was my first house, where I was raised, and then when I turned one, I guess we moved to Cebu. I don't know which place or whatever but we went there.

My dad tried to serve in the army, bald head and all that. I just remembered being so upset. Everyone told me that he'll wield a gun and I was horrified. I hate guns, I don't know why, I just hate 'em.

Then I guess we went to Manila, to Cebu again, and then back to Pagadian. I think that's where we finally settled. I don't know the chronological order, I barely remember all of it, just vague memories of me having fun.

While we were on the move a lot, I was being a difficult child. Exactly 12 am I would get night terrors and throw tantrums. I was stressed, and the adults assumed that I was just, y'know, being manic and crazy.

I don't remember doing all of those, everyone just told me that I cried so much that our neighbors would wake up, wherever we go I would cry.

It's funny how a lot of people just think kids can just, you know, regulate their emotions? Bruh, I didn't even know how to wash my hands back then.

In my mind, there was a lot of homes. When I was little I was scared because of my dad's job, I was scared that we will never return 'home' because there's too many places. Where's our home? Manila? Cebu? Pagadian?

Even then, we still moved a lot while we're in Mindanao. I don't even know where, we just moved because it's expensive to hold down a house.

I'm thankful that we don't have to do that now. I'm just sad that I still don't feel at home. Even in my room as I'm writing this, it feels like a foreign place.

I have all that I own here, my little own room. It still doesn't feel like it. You know what I mean?

Sometimes I just, imagine smells, what my 'true' home smells like. I think I'd like it to smell like lemons, I like lemons.

I also imagine that it's not threatened. Not destroyed. A safe house, where I can call it home and you know live there forever.

This lot that we're living in, it belongs to the government as of now. Years ago we were given permission to live here, since it's a vacant land, and they didn't know what to put in it yet. We were told to just make a peaceful hut, but everyone of us over the years thought that it's our home now.

And so we upgraded. Then it was threatened to be taken. I was horrified. This house that I call home, that I've been living in for the past 9 years, is gonna be taken away from me. I know it isn't ours, but I'm still really sad.

When mom heard that she planned on moving right away. Moving again. I hate moving.

We moved to her aunt's house, to my great aunt if you will. The house was, let's just say that it's not in a good shape. Lots of old things, rats, cockroaches everywhere. We only had a small room that we renovated, it was at least decent.

And I moved again because of my parent's separation.

I lost many valuable things. I don't know who I should blame for that. Maybe it's me. I don't know.

I'm just really sad. Wherever I go, I just don't feel safe. Not like there's people who would take me, or I don't know, unknown forces.

I just don't feel home. The only place that I'm safe, is in my mind. I can just imagine what home feels like. You know? I can imagine the valuable things that are still there, I can imagine the smell, the atmosphere, the colors, how soft the bed will be, the entire house just made for me.

But of course that's not how it works.

I'm aware that I have a bit of anxiety. No actually, not just a bit. I'm quite scared of my safety. It's irrational. I know.

I just wish to feel safe, and loved.

I know it's not entirely the fault of my family. I acknowledge that. Just kinda wish it were different y'know?

This was a whole mess of a chapter, but oh well. I wonder how many people think what home is supposed to feel like. I know it shouldn't cause dread, anger, and resentment. I'm still trying to work on that, and I am still young so there's plenty of time for me to think, but with the state of the world as of July 2021, I'm scared.

I know older generations have suffered long before me, that I am more pampered, and more sufficient. It hurts me, because what am I supposed to feel? Am I supposed to feel like it's not that bad? Just because I didn't experience being in the middle of the war? Actually when you think about it, our country is on the brink of war. Hooray the patriotic Philippines.

I know I have luxury that many people don't possess, but I am not rich either. I just happen to live.