Lifting my head, I see the place I have known as home for fourteen years, being destroyed in front of me. But I have cried all my tears many months ago and finally accept a little thing that makes all the difference. This is not my home. It never was. And as long as I am alive, I shall never live in a place that is home.
Though everything around me is being destroyed from the beautiful place of wonder it once was, and being transformed into one more colossal center for apathetic pleasure seekers, I am oddly content, because, like a diamond on the horizon, hope reminds me that I do have a home. One day I shall be there. And I shall never leave.
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Little Things
RandomIsn't it the little things that make all the difference? Here is a compilation of observations about the little things. Sequel to "Nothing". It is not necessary to read "Nothing" to understand this.
