Where home is…

The Stats:

Hours slept: 5.5

Gym: going later

Cigarrettes smoked: less than before, but still too scared to count

Alcohol consumed: it’s 6am people, I’m not an alcoholic!

Food consumed: x1 banana

I’ve been mulling about the concept of home for a couple of days. On Saturday night/Sunday morning, it got really crazy at my previous home. Not going to bore anyone with the details.

However, the strangest thing happened to me on Sunday, going back to drop the laundry. I walked in, and it felt poisoned. I had a moment of panic and sadness, because I realised that this place, which I turned from a house to a home, is no longer my home.

I looked around it, packed a few pictures of happier times and loved ones, got to the new place, and had an epiphany.

Home is where I am. Not where I have curated the shit out of my material possessions. Not where I have spent my time and energy. I came to the conclusion that I have for too long, placed too much value on what is mine, what I possess.

Of course, I will always be really protective of my personal space. I don’t know if that is right or wrong, but I think everyone should have a safe haven, where they have privacy and access control.

However, from now on, my home is in my heart. It goes with me, and then no person can enter uninvited, and poison it again.

Have a blessed day..

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