Home is where I make it. Uprooted from a town where the roots ran deep to a city with somewhat familiar ground. Someday was my piggy bank of all my wishes, aspirations, and determination. I mustered up enough courage and strength to finally create a new path.
I still stay up, pondering how I’ve gotten to where I am today. I still find myself wanting to probe at things that no longer matter, just for some soul searching, but I keep running myself in circles until I’m dizzy with exhaustion.
My home is a place where the love flourishes without any strings attached; I am drenched in the overflowing support encompassed in this love.
Home is a multitude of places and abstracts.