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Home, a place I wish I could return to but cannot

For if I were to return, I would be in grave danger

It’s the place where my heart longs to be but also the place it fears the most

Whenever someone tells me “well, home is where your heart is, not a physical place”

I reply with, “then my heart is homeless and lost”

People will tell me “that place isn’t your home, how can you say that after everything that happened there?!”

It’s not the place I miss, it’s the entire thing that I miss

I miss the community, the sense of being, how the entire town will come together in time of need, how no matter where you may lay on the popularity scale you are still cared for and welcome, I miss the independence, the small town feeling, the fresh air, the lakes, the river, the creeks, the park... even the misery

You say that home isn’t a physical place but when I tell you my home is Atlantic you say that it can’t be my home because of what happened to me there and ask how could I miss a place like that

But didn’t you just say that home isn’t a physical place, so where did this come from

You can judge me for being home-sick all you want, it wont change a thing

You can say that I can't fear the same place that’s my home, but it wont change a thing

You can say that I shouldn’t miss being in misery, but you don’t understand what I mean when I say I miss the misery, after all, if I were to start questioning what you consider home, wouldn’t you get defensive about it too

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