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They say that a "home" is where you feel accepted, appreciated, and loved. Well, I can't really distinguish the place which I could call home. Everything is just either incomplete yet bliss or too complete but too twisted.

I'd be narrow-minded immature kid if I'd say that my home is with my friends. Friends are just friends. They can and could leave you anytime they want. I'd be too selfish if I'd say that.

I'd be a liar if I'd say that my home is with my family. Even if it's a fact that one's family is truly his/her family and that in thick and thin, they'll always be there, I'd definitely say it halfheartedly. I have too many issues; some happened years ago but I was stuck. I can't do anything about it but deal with it and go on with my life with those unhappy memories.

I can't even call it home when I am alone. I can't even accept who I am and who I am not. Most of the time, I can't appreciate myself. I don't even love myself.

I don't know what place will I ever call home.

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