but home is a time, not just a place

Home is when you can laugh as loud as you wish, cry as hard as what's hurting you, love as though as you have forever.

Home is when it doesn't matter if the sun has set, irregardless of the rain pouring outside and thunder storming like it's the end of the world, you feel safe, like you know the shelter above you will not give way. You're protected from all the harm in the world.

Home is when you wake up in the morning, sun rays peeping through the curtains' gap, and you smile and go back to sleep again. Because you belong, on this most comfortable 3'x6' area on the surface of the planet.

Perhaps I'm just trying to convince myself that I'm at home. 

Because, honestly, I miss Home, and every single thing and soul that comes with it. 

It's my second birthday away from Home. I don't know how many more I need to finally accept that it's how life is right now. That Home is more of a luxury now instead of something I fully own. It's something I was born with, but yet have to put aside as I march on in life. 

It doesn't make sense, how close it is and yet it feels so distant to me.