These past days, I've been feeling pretty down about my very existence.
It struck me at work when I wanted to go home, that I did not have anywhere to feel at home.
I want to go home. H. O. M. E. But I have nothing to go home to. It's at that point where I wanted to break down and scream, or run till I can't...anything to get rid of the emptiness inside myself. There's no place where I can go and feel like I belong. I want to go home so badly. But I don't even know where it is.
They say home is where the heart is. Well my heart is so far away. All the way across the country, safe, somewhere in a happy home in California. And he has this whole other life. People, and places, and churches, and memories, and car trips, and family dinners, and talks, and game nights, and home. Without me. And sometimes when I think of that, I can't help this feeling of the deepest despair,which creeps in like a sickness that takes over and drowns out all other voices. I'm like I'm a puppy that no one wants. And I follow him around, but I can't touch him.
But I have to wake out of this disturbingly depressing state of mind. Look around and see that it's not like this. It's not. Because it wouldn't matter, I would follow him anywhere.