I look around at the house I made as I my home. I lost the counts of days and weeks since the last time I found myself in the living room, painting. For the first time since the past years I live in the constant scenario of hiding and running away, I suddenly felt home. Every corners of the house holds the memories I had while living here. The memories of my sadness, my loneliness, and the memories of how I came this far by doing a redundant quick repair to cope up every time I fall down.
Somehow, this house holds a small part of my life. This place really made me feel something that are new to me. Made me experience things I haven't experience before. I thought I'm not gonna stay here longer than five months because I will decided to leave once again. But then, look at me now. I am still here and I still want to stay here no matter how difficult it would be for the next coming days.
