How Others Mean Everything – HOME

I hate you. I love you. Right now I’m confused, lost and feeling slightly alone even though people surround me, they are my hatred as they play on my every emotion challenging my every belief. War against them yet a truce drawn up between us, together they have housed me, fed me and watched me grow into the person I have become. Contributing their every effort but never being able to tame the mind, to them I am a stray choosing to be alone and reclusive, not part-taking in all the shit they have to offer.

Maybe one. Maybe two. Smiles of greetings home, fake forced happiness and desire to be a part of something larger. Of course I speak of my parents, this household and the choking chains within it. Every cold and solid brick, the very external casing of this building sickening me only when I am with them, I think it’s time to get up and walk away. Debris of the ‘family’ evident in each soft plush rug and every disagreement over the smallest of wrong doings. A slave to their rules and expectations, this ‘home’ has become so frigid and within it I am fragile, it doesn’t know my thoughts and won’t allow my kind here.

Stuck. Stifled. Nouns that may be used to fill this home, all of them placed  and forced into a shape that would allow only a member to feel their joy and embrace their solemn deceit. Perceptions to the outside that all is calm and rosy, happiness fills a home – I am told. These next few years to come will see us break, but then fall back together again.

Maybe one day in the not so near future I can look back at this all and call it a birthplace, a part of me and most definitely a home.

 

LIAM THOMPSON

x

 

 

 

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