In the place that is physically my home, it is cold, dark, and demeaning, everything that is the opposite of the piercingly bright light that he brings into my life with his presence and connection.
If I’m going, let it be with a bang. I’m a sexually liberated bisexual woman.
It must be incredibly tiring feeling like you’re constantly on the run. From friends. From family. From me.
These are the guys who walk into our lives and make us feel almost invincible. They take you out on fun dates. They talk about your future together and make those plans.
Sometimes the noise of life is overwhelming. At times I find it difficult to speak my truth and I feel guilty for allowing my own negative thoughts and the opinions of others to affect me in a way that silences my voice.
Even now, more than a decade later, I find the ghost of you lingering at unexpected turns. I have loved and I have opened myself to being known, and still I feel the panic rise when a man towers over me, when a man whispers in my ear, when a man lingers for too long behind me.
Your home is not the only meaning of home out there. It’s not the representation of what all homes look like.