Home

Home has a easy definition, a place where you feel at peace, safe, comfortable.

But then, why does everything seems so confusing?

The walls filled with the cracks of my negative past

The floors scared with the mental damage from my family has caused

The door echo with my parents yelling “What will we do with him?!”

These thoughts cloud my thoughts,

Thoughts that destroy me deep down inside which make me ask myself

“Why did I come back?”

Why did I come back after my father,

The man that’s suppose to be my role model fought me in the streets,

Broke a stick over my shoulder because I failed to respect him,

And kicked me out of his home because of how my hair looked.

But many people don’t understand this so I stay voiceless.

Voiceless and enclosed to my thoughts.

So instead of advocating for myself and causing another problem that brings my mother to tears,

I run cowardly to the only thing that gives me salvation.

And as dumb as it might sound, this salvation is the Spotify playlist on my cellphone.

The playlist that cover the cracks on the walls, fill the floors' imperfections and silence the doors that taunt me.

This playlist that turn my reality to a 3 minute paradise,

And a rude awakening, because after those 3 minutes, there’d be those 5 second until the next song plays.

And so, this where I feel at peace, safe, and comfortable.

My 3 minute home.