This is my home and where I want to be, but it doesn’t mean it is easy for me. It also doesn’t mean that I belong here. Maybe I don’t, and perhaps I’m just dragging out the inevitable, but I’m not going anywhere for the moment. Doesn’t mean I wouldn’t like to crawl in a hole and just bury my head. Doesn’t mean it isn’t killing me a little staying here. Little do they know how I’m breaking inside more and more. I thought there was nothing left to break. I must have been wrong.
