Far From Home

What is home? Where is home? 

I used to think home was the house where I grew up, where my parents lived. But now... Maybe that is not home, maybe my parents are home. Or not my parents, but someone else. If that is the case, I am very far from home. Very, very far, struggling to make my new home where I am, and I’m not sure I can do it. 

Home isn’t a place, they say. Home is where the heart is. Home is someone else’s arms. Oh well, I am really, really far from home then. Can I find a new home around here? Can I find home in the arms of someone new? Should I even try to find home? I don’t think so. I dont’ want to. Home is only in his arms, and I will go back home eventually. 

Or maybe home is within me. Maybe home is finally accepting myself, loving myself. Home can be as simple as feeling comfortable in my own body and feeling confident that I am doing the right things for the right reasons. 

Or maybe home is just overrated. Do we need a home? There are so many people that don’t have a home, and so? 

And in the end we come back to the question: What is home? Where is home?