I am leaving my home for the first time because it does not feel like home anymore. It does not make me feel comfortable and safe nor does it allow me to be myself anymore.
Home is the place where I can be myself without having to worry about what other people might say. Home is the place where I return to after a heavy workday. It provides me warmth, comfort and space. It gives me peace of mind. A safe haven that I treasure.
Home is the place where love grows. It nurtures me to become the best version of myself.
Home is the place I chose to return to.
Until home started to feel cold. It did not provide me the heat that I needed to warm myself in the middle of a winter night anymore. The once blazing flame in the fireplace slowly died. It made me panic. I did everything to rekindle the flame. I tossed some dry woods and lit up papers. But the fire wouldn’t rekindle. So, I had to learn how to survive the cold and tuck myself in my bed each night hoping for the winter to fade away as soon as possible.
But the season never changed. Summer never came.
I never blamed my home for the situation—it never crossed my mind to find a warmer place.
As winter passed by so slowly, a gentle breeze made its way inside my home. It made me shiver. The breeze started to become stronger with every passing day. Until it wasn’t just a mere breeze anymore. Suddenly, there was a strong wind signalling the start of a storm.
A storm inside my home.
The wind howled at me. It was too strong that it made the walls crack.
I went straight to the door for safety. I needed to get outside before a gust of wind could hit me. But it was locked from the outside. I couldn’t get out. My windows were stuck. I couldn’t unlatch them.
I realized I had no choice but to face the storm and wait.
For quite some time, I waited for the storm to calm down and thankfully, it did. I had a few bruises and cuts from all the things thrown my way but was lucky enough to avoid most of it.
My home became a mess inside. And nobody knew.
That was the first time. But not the last.
I will never leave my home, I convinced myself before. I just need more patience. This season will pass by soon, I said. But it was too much. I couldn’t bear it anymore. I had enough.
It’s never easy to leave. I couldn’t leave home because it is the love of my life—he is the love of my life.
He is my home. The one I chose to return to.
But I know I have to make a decision. No matter how hard it is. I can’t bear the storm and cold anymore.
So, I am leaving for the very first time… and I won’t look back.
Because my home does not feel like home anymore. It does not make me feel comfortable and safe nor does it allow me to be myself anymore.