I'm Homeless

Something that has been weighing on me for quite some time is that I’m homeless. I have an apartment, yes. I have places where there are people that love me and seek to make me feel at home. But the truth is I no longer have that refuge that a home is. My home, the place that for 26 years I came to celebrate, dream, and to lick my wounds. I no longer have a place that I can always return to regardless of what is happening in my life and the world around me. I no longer have a place that anchors me. There is no longer a center to my universe and all things in it are now spinning wildly beyond my control. Sure, the place still exists physically but it’s strange and unfamiliar to me as though I have stepped into a nightmarish parallel universe. Maybe it’s so distressing to me because I know this story. A rural girl always wanting something “over the rainbow”. Then she gets there and then all she wants is to go home. But I don’t get a pretty pair of shoes to help me on my way. I don’t ever get to return to my home. Some days that weighs heavier on me than others but it’s always lurking there waiting for a bad moment to creep in and remind me.