It’s funny how I’m always being told, “Home is where the heart is.”
It’s even more amusing when they tell me I have everything I should want in life. That my beauty is far too precious to be compared to anything else.
However, I never laugh. Because really… Are you kidding me?
…It’s like they don’t even know me.
Its been used throughout the ages, a word which can either evoke great sorrow within our fragile human emotions, or define who we are. It’s something that reaches into the depths of your body, tugging around for the perfect string to pull and control your every movement…
It determines where you want to be, colliding with all the other amazing possibilities your life is capable of… There’s no other place you’ll feel safe. No one will stop you from getting to where you belong.
I’m not allowed to feel that way.
It can make you feel trapped and searching for where it is you truly belong. It’s also the place associated with the childhood you wish to forget… But I’m afraid I’m not allowed to be disconnected with my past. It’s not my choice anymore. I feel like a puppet on a string, encased by the decisions of all those around me. They’ve already decided what’s best for me.
I always find myself asking, “What is home?”
Home is where there heart is… But I can’t seem to find my heart no matter how hard I look. I have an irrevocable need for adventure, to find where I belong and where I’m truly wanted. I want only the good things, the perfect land where the innocent people I so long for reside. I feel as though I dream of the impossible.
I’m not innocent. They already took that away from me.
I know no other way of living. I’ve been taught that this is how it’s going to be, that this curse they call beauty makes me valuable enough for this. My own family has trapped me into this way of thinking, that the only way for me to make up for the burden I have caused them is to sell myself to these monsters. All these years I have succumbed to what they felt was best for them, that this was where I belonged and I wasn’t allowed to leave.
I’m so much more than their toy, a way to give the satisfaction to others that they crave.
I’m so much more than a body to give for the sake of the benefit of others.
I’m so much more than a burden to this world and I will be so much more than a thing that you never even cared for.
I desperately wanted my parents to love me for who I was, to see the disgust in their eyes disappear. Isn’t that what all children want? To be cared and nurtured by their loving parents? There was always that one fear circulating in my head, suffocating me bit by bit… What if no one was able to love me now? I was afraid I would never find my heart… and I’d be lost forever.
I’m just a girl who only ever wanted to be loved, and only ever wanted to feel at home.
So when they tell me they love me, and that they only wanted what’s best for the family, I know I’m just a necessity. As I begin to break out of what seemed to be the endless torture at my parent’s hands and walk away, they ask me one simple question.
“Who’s going to love you now?”
By then I had realized the missing piece that always told me to be strong. This was the voice in my head telling me to persevere, to find the beauty that life can, and will, offer me. My heart was always knocking against my chest, a living reminder that I was alive and that I had myself to thank for getting me through it all. I’ll only ever feel at home if I’m confident in myself.
I thought about the answer I had been longing for, an answer I always had within me but had yet to find. Without a single glance back, I replied with certainty.