I fought my battles. I discovered myself. I learned to fill up the holes your absence burned in me. I lived. All without you.
When one place is all you’ve ever known, you become comfortable with the familiar. Fear of the unknown creeps into your thoughts and convinces you that you want to stay, succumbing to the predictable pattern of generations before you.
You’re no longer the space that holds me together, you’re the empty walls that tear me apart.
Maybe it’s about letting go of all the things you want to run away from, of all the things that are holding you down. Maybe you’ll find your place when you learn to stay instead of running away.
Add a few comfort objects: Aside from materialism and hoarding, keeping a few comfort objects can be beneficial in customizing your sacred space.
Thank you for showing me how to live a life that is worth remembering.
It sounds beautiful, doesn’t it? To unpack your life and make a home out of someone else’s heart, to settle down and understand what everyone means when they say home isn’t a place, it’s a person. But they never talk about what happens when that person leaves.
My hometown is not my home anymore.
The house I grew up in belongs to two ER nurses.
They have a dog, I think.
He knew that whatever he does he can come home to me with arms wide open, but I’m tired.
You see God’s Country. I see my own personal hell.