I want to go Home.
I want to go Home.
I want to go Home.
I want to go Home.
I want to go Home.
You are Home.
Do you know how much fear this puts into me? The fact that after I chant
and plead “I want to go Home” with the hope in front of me, that my mind then
says “You are Home.”
It internally crushes me. My whole exterior freezes at my sudden revelation.
Almost all of my energy drains out of me. Whatever drop left, is used to keep up a
‘normal’ façade, while the rest of me is trying to agree with gravity and fall
through the ground and into the core to burn.
My mind registers that this is Home. Yet, I do not feel safe. I do not feel a
warmth such like the evening sun but a tendril of coldness which grabs me when I
pass the threshold. This is not happiness that courses through me, but fear.
Fear that one day nothing will stop the inevitability of me and my truth.
Of me and my rage.
Of me . . . and my tears.
The day where I can no longer stand still and let my
hand twitch painfully at my side. Clenching and – Unclenching.
A day where I do
not break my nails from trying to clench and scratch the arm of my chair.
That one day where I am not pushed over the cliffs edge, but where I am thrown and sent
flying passed it.
That is of course,
if I just do not decide to
step over it myself.
