Home Is...

Home is a new haircut. Long strands of brown hair weighing me down, Falling to the floor, Taking with them the girl I never wanted to be. Home is the crinkly white package that contains the key to my happiness. The key that will remove the girl from my head, The girl I never asked for. Home is Cavetown, Melanie Martinez and Girl in Red. Music confronting the never silent voices in my head. Home is accepting. Nobody blaming your phone for who you are. Home is saying I am who I am, enough said. Home is flying your flag. From pink and blue to grey and black. Home is being called your real name, Not the one you killed years ago. Home is the warmth you get when your pronouns are instantly used. They/Them to She/Her, It doesn't matter, they use them anyway. Home is coming out to your family and a few days later, A flag appears on your doorstep. Home is being accepted by your family. Home is people listening without saying they understand Even though they really don’t. Home is respect and kindness. And even though I have never really experienced many of the things on this list, I know that... Home is what you make of it.

Marisa

6 Année

Winnipeg, Manitoba

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