What is a āHomeā?Ā How do you know where you are living is called āHOMEā? What it has to do to be āHOMEā?
To her, a HOME is somewhere she can be herself, somewhere she could feel the warm of love, somewhere there is care and love, somewhere she knows it is the right place and somewhere she belongs to.
But is every homes is a āHOMEā?
HER? She lost her āHOMEā; it is no longer the place where she thinks it is anymore, instead, it now has become a place where she wishes she could run away from. It aināt got no love anymore, it has become a war zone. It aināt a place where she can feel comfortable in anymore, it now has become a place full of pressure. It aināt a place where she can be herself anymore, she needs to fake a smile, make jokes to show that sheās completely okay while sheās actually not, while sheās actually breaking inside.
Every time they come together, there is not once that they are actually spreading the love. It either war zone or debate challenge. Even if she wasnāt a participant in it, it did hit her badly.
Why do she have to care?
Because she thinks she could bring it back together, sticking all the broken pieces, finding the missing pieces and hopefully one day, there will be magic to help making it as good as brand new. But she was wrong, she was wrong all the time. There is no fantasy in the real world, there is no magic, there is no wishes come true and there is no happily ever after.
There used to be a time when she thinks that her wishes and efforts that she have put into bringing this together work, she thought āYES, I finally make it.ā The place where it used to be broken has recovering bits by bits and sheās overjoyed to see those changes, but then āBOOMEDā. This time, it is neither a war zone nor a debate challenge; it is much more worst then all of those.
It is just a typical day, she was in her room doing some stuff; immediately, there is this unbearable loud noises. She thought it was just like it used to be, a round of back and forth yelling and thatās it. But no, it stayed there, it keeps going back and forth countless rounds. Her head was packing with all those noises, their meaning; she can imagine their act above from her room, she can just picture it directly from her head. Itās gotten worst and worst, and her mind was crumbling things up like a huge bar of magnet.
Finally, she broke down. Right there at the corner of her bookcase and her bed. āI canāt handle this anymoreā her mind screamed from inside. She couldnāt think of anything at all, her tears were falling down like machine guns, her legs were weak, and her body was trembling. She sat there hoping she could do something to help, to settle down, but she got nothing. Nothing is in her head, she canāt keep it together, and all she can do was sitting right at that spot listening to whatever happened.
Really, at that moment she wished to be admitted in COMA, Metal illness, Depression anything that could bring her away from it. She wished she could just go down and collapse so everybody could stop. But it all just her wishes and she knows wishes donāt come true.











