I remember being at work, or somewhere else, and thinking over and over again that “I just want to go home.” The hours seemed like days. I’d watch the clock, and it would seem to have stopped. Two minutes before I was officially to be set free, I’d run around the corner and make an escape. I knew that those last two minutes would just kill me, so I had to make the run for it while I could still breathe. Continue reading
I’m like a turtle sitting in its box, or at the least slowly making its way to a not so obvious destination, and then returning home in frustration.
I am slowed down not just from my general condition, but a chemical fix that is meant to keep me sedated and calm. Unfortunately this fix slows me down more than I’d wish. I try to push myself. Or maybe sometimes there’s an invisible slow-moving hand pushing me forward, with my feet and belly sliding on the ground. Continue reading
via Daily Prompt: Passport
We’ve all heard the expression “Home is where the heart is”. That generally means that home is any place where your most beloved family members reside with you (like a husband and children). But I’m sure many of you have moved around in your country. Perhaps even moved to another country? You think “Where was I born? Is that place where I consider my original home?” Come to think of it, when someone asks you where you’re originally from, do you say the state/city you grew up in? Or do you say the state/city you lived in that really felt like a true home? I think it varies by person. Continue reading