No One to Cry to, No Place to Call Home

February 20th, Tuesday

A fear grips my heart like never before. It's the fear of losing more than I've already lost, to the point where I feel like I own nothing at all. As I pen down these thoughts, my mind grapples with the reality, acknowledging the weight of my emotions. I closed a door behind me, a necessary step, yet the reality I left behind looms over me, daunting and unconquerable. In moments like these, I turn to writing to find solace, to convince myself that everything will eventually be alright. It's akin to seeking within myself what I've sought from others for years, almost like breaking free from an addiction. Ironically, I've never considered myself an addict, nor have I sympathized with the notion. And yet, here I am, grappling with uncertainties about my own identity as I pen these words.

Becoming this person didn't happen overnight; it's the culmination of years of emotional and mental turmoil. The journey is daunting, similar to wandering further away from the familiarity of home, from the peace, security, and assurances it once provided. Despite meticulous planning, execution brings forth red flags, signals my body has never experienced or anticipated before. Being away from home is unsettling, bidding farewell to loved ones is harrowing, and the uncertainty of tomorrow is spine-chilling. Yet, here I stand, still breathing, my heart fractured but beating with a resolute force with each piece of news the universe delivers. No one to cry to, no place to call home.