Meaning of Home

Home is supposed to be a place where you feel safe, free, and like yourself. But ever since I moved to Toronto, home hasn’t felt the same. It feels like a part of me stayed behind in Alberta. I didn’t choose to move, and even though other people like it here, I don’t feel like I belong. In Alberta, I was always outside. I went into the forest, went on car rides, and spent time with friends. I barely used my devices because I didn’t need to. Life felt open. Here, I stay in my room most of the time. I’m not allowed to go out much, and I miss the freedom I used to have. I miss feeling trusted. Sometimes I feel too old to fit in, but also too young to be understood. I don’t like being babied, and I don’t like feeling stuck. At night, I think about my old life so much that I can’t sleep. I used to sleep for hours. Now I barely sleep at all. I miss my friends. I miss the version of me that laughed more. Home used to mean freedom, nature, and happiness. Now it feels like I’m spinning, or falling, or not really anywhere at all. Maybe home isn’t just a place. Maybe it’s the feeling of being understood. And right now, I’m still trying to find that feeling again.