This house is not a home.

Correction: THESE houses are not home.

Home is supposed to be a place you feel safe. A place where you always return, and look to returning to. A place to lie your head. This is not that type of place.

I try to keep busy, dreading when the time comes when I do have to return. I use other homes as my own, feeling more welcome and at ease at.

I don't feel safe here. I don't feel comfortable here. I don't feel welcome here. I don't want to be here.

Burning away.

It's strange how everything has an opposite effect. The thing that brings you the most joy can also be the thing the most pain. The person who built you up strong can also be the person to tear you down. Love turns to hate.

The ocean is one of the most amazing creations, beautiful yet powerful and able to destruct anything in its path. Memories are the most destructing though, with the ability to raise your spirits and get you through the day, or break you down until there's nothing left to salvage.

But those close to you are what can save your life or end it in a heartbeat. I know, I have nothing left.