Because for us home is not a place.
It’s a person.
Every you, every me.
I’m happy, we’re happy.
…and then suddenly you’ll meet this boy who will become the center of your world and you’ll write pages and pages and pages of poems about his eyes and his smile and you’ll feel like you could be with him forever and be content in every way possible. but then he leaves and your whole world falls apart and you’ll rip up those tear-stained poems and throw the pieces into the air like confetti as if to say, “congratulations, you made me feel like shit,” and you’re lost, you’re so lost in the darkness that engulfs you that you can’t do anything at all so you’ll just sit in silence and wonder when he’ll come back or when you’ll finally leave this hell of an earth.
he never comes back.
She was a healer,
He was an arms.
She was a cheerful person,
He was a total grumpy.
She made his life feels wonderful,
He turned her life so miserable.
They were total opposite,
But they were together.
.
.
.
.
—were, is the exact keyword.
