Home, Happiness, and Identification

My house is not a home

It doesn't belong or pertain to me

These walls say the last name of some other child

I feel alone, I am alone

The tones in the conversation never change

I am in the midst of an ignorance from a people who learned to live by merely existing, and surviving and that is all

I am in the thrall of two conservative parents whose ideals of family and happiness are a distortion of my own

I am not home

That is who I am

When they ask me “Son ,why do you choose to stay in your room instead of being with us?”

I reply to them

Here is the only asylum I have

Here is where I can de-stress, detox, and desensitize

Here I am happy

I love my family, but I love my friends more

Three people have gone from strangers to brothers in three years

They do not ridicule me for my aspirations, rather, they encourage them

These people like me for me. There is no false pretense when I'm around them

I have to be myself in order to be happy

That is who I am

I am someone, who finds it so hard to be moved and be vulnerable

I don't know what I'm supposed to do

Being authentic?

I am not understood

I am in the shadow

I am trying to support the other person

I keep my shield up

I want to be successful on my terms

I want to help, not hinder

I want to heal, not hurt

It's about the needs of others

I don't know what I'm supposed to do

I want to be myself

I know I cant be that here

That is who I am