Write about your dream home.
I didn’t grow up in a house that showed “love.” I grew up in a home filled with violence, trauma.
Hatred and heartbreak were common currency, after a beating, all I wanted was escape from the drama.
Escape I found—eventually. Running, relentlessly, in search of reprieve,
Through ingesting and inhaling garbage, but the emptiness never left me.
I lost everything, chasing illusions of relief.
Yet, even in the wreckage, a seed remained. A whisper of something stronger, something more relentless
My dream house is light—Airy, full of love and forgiveness. A place where the broken find shelter, where weary souls have something to witness.
No longer will I crumble, twisted and cold, no longer will “reprieve” leave me with nothing to hold.
This home will stand, not built of walls, but of resilience.
My dream home is inhabited by the light of a higher power,
One that watches over me, so I’m never alone in my tower.
Love is no longer something I seek
But give freely; no longer a show of power
What are your thoughts? We want to know!