the place where one lives permanently, especially as a member of a family or household.
Home is just a word that we use to claim that we have a place. A place in which we feel comfortable in our own skin. Every break from school I’m coming back to Long Island and I claim it to be my “home”. It’s not my home. Simply of a place that I grew up in, shared memories with and well now, grew out of. Every time I come home I seem to be looking at a younger self. A girl that I’ve been running away from so many times before. When I moved to Texas two years ago, I told myself that I wasn’t staying. I couldn’t stay, I didn’t belong, I had no one but I’ve noticed in the last three months that I have so much more in Texas then I do in Long Island. I feel that as humans, once we’re out of our comfort zones we feel that our world is falling apart and that we need to get back to safe lands. In reality we’ve always been safe. Home is self acceptance, self love and self healing. Once I’ve mastered all three of these, home is a state of mind.
I’ve been taking photos while I’m home for the holiday break. I feel that they explain my feelings perfectly. Alone and uncertainty.