This thing we call "home" what does that mean...in my world, home is not a word attached to that feeling, it was foster homes, drug deals, and molestations.
I no longer care about it, I care about survival, and the like. I never knew one place, I knew many...and evil knew me.
I was never told about life or things of this life that would matter, only the things that didn't matter. I didn't care, I was never taught to care, and evil was taught, Sex, drugs, and welfare.
feelings shut off early and pains of abuse made to be normal and frequent, who gives a shit, nobody...not even me.
Who are we? we are the ones left behind, uncared for, "WE" do not matter, to you, to me, to family...or to friends anyways....anymore. We are livestock to be drug around to where we are needed, we aren't human to you.
We grow up with pain and numbness...then hatred for all others but somehow we learn to pretend that we care, because that is how we survive, and survival is all that matters...somehow...but why? Because it is human nature to want to...then we grow and choose to survive.
I learned, I taught my damned self...to be someone, someone who matters. I learned to care about me somehow, I don't know when or where, but I wanted to be loved and find a "home." I wanted to matter..to someone, to anyone!
My version of "home"...is what I make of it, I learned to care about me, and I make a lot of it now, it's mine to control now...not yours. I will not let anyone make my life, IT IS MINE, NOT YOURS!
I choose life. I choose GOD.
About the Creator
C. M. Sears
I am learning more about writing every time I write a new story, whether it be fiction or fact. I love this platform and will continue to write and learn...if you like what you read in any of my stories please click the heart.
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