"...I've lived in this place and I know all the faces
Each one is different but they're always the same
They mean me no harm but it's time that I face it
They'll never allow me to change
But I never dreamed home would end up where I don't belong
I'm movin' on..."
It's five minutes to the end. Like a schoolkid, all ready and packed to storm out of the room. For a moment there, it was all she could think of - to come home.
Each one is different but they're always the same
They mean me no harm but it's time that I face it
They'll never allow me to change
But I never dreamed home would end up where I don't belong
I'm movin' on..."
It's five minutes to the end. Like a schoolkid, all ready and packed to storm out of the room. For a moment there, it was all she could think of - to come home.
The loving voice of a mother, the warm embrace of a little sister, the assuring confidence of a father - nothing else mattered for her. Coming home was, always has been, a memory of comfort and love.
Yet, as the years passed and as she came into age, deep down lays a yearning for something bigger than herself and the world she has come to love. She knew inevitably, it was something she must do for herself. It was the only way to keep her sane.
The harmonics have dwindled over the years, now replaced by constant bickerings and doled-out blames enough for the whole family. Silent treatments and unrelentless name callings have come to waste, they no longer pierce the hearts.
Do you know that feeling when you're so sad that you want to just cry?
But you're so angry at the same time that the tears just won't fall?
Her days are like these - plagued by the slanders to her feelings, yet unable to rise above them, even with the strongest of will.
It isn't the question of could, but it is the question of would - would she be willing to endure?
She could not make them choose. It wouldn't be right to do so. For her, it seemed like they have already made a choice. A choice not to listen, a choice not to defend, a choice not to acknowledge. A choice not to choose but to neglect entirely.
Perhaps she's thinking too much into it. Perhaps this is her heart speaking to her. Perhaps all she wants to do is to get out.
For sorrow that is too much, her reasons mattered only to her.
The bags are packed, the pictures and gifts all wrapped up and the memories tucked away in the corner of the bedroom. And as she carried with her her dignity and pride, she knew it is almost time to go.
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