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My home is more than just a building. It is a zone where I can get comfort and feel better. I moved here when I was 3 months old. At first I lived in someone's basement but my parents wanted more children. We went home searching and found the one. I probably didn't think much of it then but now it is a part of me. I live with a mental condition, GAD (Generalized Anxiety Disorder). My parents are there when I need them and if I need time alone I can go up to my bedroom for space. My parents comfort me when I'm scared or sad. They got me a therapist because of my condition. My mom has the same condition as me and we help each other. I got a baby brother recently. I can get better when I'm sick there. Yes, some things are broken or stopped working. My toilet is broken, My basement is getting renovated and my baby brother is moving into my other brother's bedroom. I forget all the changes and broken items when I'm sad. It's like a friend when mine are away. That's what home means to me.