You never know how much it takes to make a house a home until you have to go. You’ll never notice how that painting is supposed to hang on the wall near the kitchen, not in the center of this foreign box. Or how every cup, dog leash and reminiscent photo will remind you of what your life used to be. When I look at my face in the mirror I see the girl I used to be. The girl who had so many plans for the future and thought I would’ve made it so far by now, but I’m here. I try to tell myself that this is my journey and that this is a great new start. However, something feels wrong, like I’m not supposed to be here in this spot, like I’m supposed to be farther. You’d think I’d be used to change, dealing with a man like my father. But instead I flinch at the sight of it, I can’t take it anymore. I don’t honestly wish I could go back, that home put me through more fights and trauma than you know. I just wish things could feel easy again, I wish I could wake up in the morning without a headache again. Instead I’m up at night, thinking about the glass snakes. The ones that talk the most about other people but would break if you did the same. The ones who never truly knew what happened within those 4 walls. But I loved those 4 walls. No, no I was just comfortable in those halls and too blinded to the flaws of my past. Because behind every photo and laugh is a burn and a crash. Where every word that was said was meant to scar and every night ended in longing tears. But I was safe right. No, I felt safe and feeling safe and being safe are two different things. My mind didn’t know things could be so sane until I saw everyone living the life that I crave. And I started to crave that sweetness so much I became bitter. Now I’m in this new home. And no one knows… what I came from, these tall buildings and palm trees have nothing on the on the tears and me on my knees asking god please take me out, save me. He took me out of that house and took away all the things I hate while also taking what I love. Maybe I wasn’t grateful enough but that wasn’t fair. I’ve lived in misery my whole life and this is how you show me you care. God…when will it be my turn to make this house a home. To make this body feel safe again. So I don’t feel like I wanna rip out of this skin again. God, when is it my turn to be happy and to feel secure? When will it be…my….time?

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