Home I'll never be

February 23rd, 2000.

My little sister's birthday.

That was the last time I was home.

After that we were tossed around from place to place, much like we were before, but this time around I was never really able to form attachments to places or things. I got attached to people, in the past year it's been made brutally clear that I'd grow attached to some of those people far too quickly, but none of it mattered, I hadn't lost my ability to love, I never have, and I am quite sure that I never will. And that's the most important bit of myself to retain. It's all we've got, as people. It's all that's permanent, even if it changes subject, meaning, or even if it goes away for a while. It'll always be there. Knowing that is what makes the rest worth it.

But I'm tired, and I haven't been home in over 9 years.

I've had places to live, with and without family. I've had friends, a school, a job, pets, girlfriends, parties, exams, holidays, everything. But I haven't had a home in a very long time. I haven't had somewhere to go, somewhere that felt comfortable. Even now, when I am alone in my room I don't feel at peace, I feel like I'm alone. And I'm beginning to think that maybe it's because I don't have a place that grows with me, or a place that I can look back on fondly. Every time I've experienced heartbeak, or loss in the last 10 years, I didn't have a home to go to. I would go be alone, in a room that I kept my things in, I've spent half my life in large closets.

I think that it doesn't matter what happens, if I publish the comic I've always wanted to, if I become a great designer, if I one day manage to get my thoughts and feelings down on to paper at all, if I ever live up to everyone's expectations. It doesn't really matter where I end up in life, as long as one day it feels like home.

I just want to go home.