The Meaning of Home

Home..the place meant to be safest, a place where I'm at my most vulnerable state… But sometimes where the darkness can be the strongest, no one to protect me from the darkness that engulfs me and my mind as I rot in my bed the darkness can only infatuate me with anger and downcast. I can feel the dark cold bed sheets caressing me almost like it reaches beyond my cold raw skin as the sorrowful tears escape my eyes until I run dry. Home…the place i rip off the act and can finally cry let it out and be dejectful but only silently without a word, the only thoughts that can fill my mind is the urge to rip this forsaken house apart how i can stay silent but have such vulgar thoughts i shall not know, i want to scream i want to shed angry ugly tears but am restrained with the thought i can be heard. I want to tell her who i really am, i want her to notice who i am but the thought of her not accepting me engulfs my mind i want to pray to god to fix me but no matter how many times i do i know it won't change anything,the thought of being able to actually feel comfortable in my own skin is only a dream to me and only ever seems to be i can't explain or describe the thoughts i think behind closed doors. I feel home is a blessing and curse that dance together. By jay, formally Aida