Where is my home ?

Homelessness goes beyond the mere lack of shelter; it embodies a sense of drifting in a world that has turned its back on me. Loneliness weighs heavy on my chest, an all-encompassing emotional void. Memories of happier times, of family, career, and purpose, slip further away each passing day.

I wander through unfamiliar streets, their lifeless pavements mirroring the bleakness of my existence. Warmth, both inside and out, is a distant memory. Regrets anchor my steps to the unyielding concrete.

Turning a corner, I stumbled upon a shadowy park, its swings were swaying gently in the breeze, A beckoning bench urged me to sit. I paused, gazing at the night sky, seeking solace in the distant stars, their brilliance teasingly out of reach.

Tears welled in my eyes, and for the first time in ages, I allowed myself to feel. The tears streamed down my cheeks, mingling with the mist, and I released a trembling sigh. In that solitary moment, I realized that finding my way home wasn’t merely a matter of direction. There was no home. Ladies and gentlemen, I’ve lost my home.

Walking away from the park, I couldn’t help but believe that, one day, I might stumble upon another home. A place where the void can be filled, even if the world outside remains unforgiving.

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