What if “home” doesn’t actually exist?
It’s actually a concept that we, human, created
A concept that we created in order to avoid the void within us, the void that is part of our soul.
Or, what if the “void” is also just a concept that we presented to confirm our being?
What if the home is just a form of escape?
That in turn, has corrupted us all into idealizing that safe place
Polluted our minds with the fear of being lost.
What if these concepts don’t exist? would we feel lonely?
Lucky those who have successfully tricked themselves into finding that “home”
Unlucky us who have been eating our time out with repeatedly craving over that unrealistic concept, and ended up with nothingness.
What is "realistic" anyway?
Find me, somebody, to love.
I’ve been forcing myself to produce endorphins to feel good and to avoid these ruminations.
Find me a way to rearrange myself and my thoughts
Although I don’t really believe that that is what I need
I wish I could undo myself, or at least assure myself to keep walking without hesitation.
Help.
