You Would Always Be Here, I Heard You Say

" perhaps true freedom is having a home to return to."

What have I been searching for? What have I been looking for, this whole time?
For the longest time, I thought it was love, and in some ways I still believe that to be true, but I've realized, above all else I am looking for a home.

First it started as trying to find a way home. Because where I lived, wasn't. I would look everywhere, see hidden meanings in every thing. The light is shining on that tree just right - could it be a way? What if I walk up and touch it, will it bring me home? Is it on the other side of this sewer tunnel? The answer was always, inevitably, no. I still hope sometimes, though. If I explore a little bit more, maybe I will find the way...

Then it became trying to find a home here, in this world. Trying to find a beautiful, safe place. To rest my head. To get some sleep. And I had been trying to find that home in the arms of girls. Beautiful girls, though as the scars on my heart speak, their safety was questionable. Love is, in a way, like going home. I know the feeling off by heart, being weary and longing for that one person. Like everything will be ok with their arms around you. I longed for that and dreamt of that and built elaborate fantasies in my head. Until one day I thought I had found it. Or, I had found it. For that precious time, I had found a home. In her warm arms and her deep brown eyes, I was safe. For that precious time.

For now I don't know what the home I'm searching for will be like. Is it love? Or does one entail the other? I am looking for a home, a place of my own, somewhere I can return to when the battle is done. When all my searching is through.