Home

I want to go home. And I don’t mean my house, Because that’s all it is, A house, My house, But not my home. I don’t know if home is a person, And I haven’t found that person. I don’t know if home is a feeling, And I don’t know how to feel it, But I want to go home. I want to find a place where I’m safe, Where I’m heard. I want to find a place where I feel like I belong, Where I matter, Where I don’t feel like this disconnected person, Disconnected from friends, From family, From everybody around me. I feel like it’s just me. I can be in a room full of people, And it’s still just me. I want to go home, But I feel like I’m just floating, Not like a weightless floating, Not like a feather floating. Floating is heavier than you think. It’s heavy. I want to go home, But I don’t know where that is. I want to find home, Or know how to make it. The closest I get to home is within a book. The closest I get to family are the characters bound to the pages of these books. I want to find home. And not just read what home could be. I want to experience it.