I don’t want to be “home”

Home is supposed to be where you grow up. Where you took your first steps and where you cried for the first time. Where your parents brought you once you were born. What if it doesn’t feel like home though…

What if that 500CA bus allows you to cry louder than your bedroom. The gym allows you to wear more comfortable clothing than your living room. The men you’re told to fear appreciate your body more than the ones who created it.

What do you do when you discover a new universe. A universe that you enjoy far more than your current one. A universe that allows you to want anything and gives you that which your heart desires. You get all the hugs and cuddles and kisses you want.

What happens when your heart says you want a hug but your brain reminds you that only your stuffed panda can give you that. My heart lives in a parallel universe now. In this universe, it is just the battery to keep the light on inside me. It turns off its best parts and goes into hibernation knowing all that it wants is going to be met only with rejection and tears. My brain tries its best to keep me together. Getting through art classes, a job, chores, and exercise like a regular Tuesday. It doesn’t succeed every day though. Today it got through about 22 hours of March 22nd.

I spend so much effort traveling between my universes. Coming back from my heart’s home to my “real” home is getting increasingly difficult. It takes days and weeks to recover from. I often wonder why I don’t just leave and take permanent citizenship where I truly want to be. I am yet to discover why. Is it fear? Is it worry that I don’t deserve happiness? Is it because I’m not strong enough? Is it because I’ don’t know what is right and wrong anymore? Maybe it is a combination of it all.

All I know is right now I want a long hug and a shoulder to cry on and all I have is an empty bed and a wet pillow.