…a little further, but now the road is killing me and there’s no way I can fake my pain. There’s guilt in everything I do, there are small white coloured buildings rising in my way, I only see myself leaving them as there wouldn’t be strings attached to my mindset. Change is here while I’m still there, wishing for abroad and only raising chains on myself.

In such moments I hear her voice … and now I truly hear her. Where on Earth is there another place like this? With people who accept change? and new. Like everyone should…except here people don’t. They only love this therm… “familiar”. I still try, I haven’t stopped yet, but I’m getting closer. I wear a blame that’s not mine, I don’t look into peoples eyes, I know now that I won’t ever find a thing to be mine. I am the one who accepts, but I couldn’t accept that’s what I get for being all that. That’s not what I get for accepting to accept.

Family is showing me I’ve lost. I’ve lost a place to stay, a home, the chance to find home and the one to come back. I don’t know what I’m bonded to, I don’t wanna know yet.

Skies amaze me only cause I accept to do not touch. Some things are untouchable and such things are mine.

Going home is the farthest option, after trying both roads, I no longer belong to any of these. After too much, there’s just no language to speak, no way to feel and nothing to return for.

Nothing except one road still is familiar. The road I’ve driven to way too many times, unable to decide whether to stay familiar or let familiar aside.