Home

My mother tells me that she's upset I'm never home.
She doesn't understand that I don't like it here.
Not anymore.
I don't want to be in a place where I can never do anything right.
Where I tip toe my way around everyone and everything.
Until I slip.
And crash.
And find myself falling into place as a part of this puzzle you call your home.
I become the anger. The pain. The loneliness.
When I'm in your home, Mum, I become what I've been running from.
I watch from the inner corners of my mind as I slowly tranfsorm into someone I never wanted to be.
I become you, Mum.
And as much as you tried to be a good person.
As much as you wanted to be a good mother.
And as much as you wished we came from a good home.
You just aren't cut out for this.
For being my mother. For raising me. For making a home.
Now, don't get me wrong, I'm thankful.
I'm thankful that you tried.
But what you need to understand is that if I'm trapped here much longer,
I'll suffer the same fate.
And I know that somewhere within you, you don't want me to be like you.
You wanted to raise me to be better than that.
Now it's my turn to try.
To turn what you half finished into what it was destined to become.
So let me leave.
Let me grow.
Let me make a new home like the one I found with him.
And I promise that one day I'll come back your home,
And I'll make it ours.