Home is... home is something I'm not terribly familiar with.
I live on my own now, and I don't really consider this home. I consider it... a place where I keep all my junk, and a place I can sleep or do almost anything I want.
But to be 'home', it has to be something more. When you walk in the door, you have to feel that you there, in the living room with the ratty couch and creaking chair, or in the kitchen with the dirty dishes in the sink. That the house is somehow less a home when you are not in it, or when the other people you share it with are missing. The other people that, along with you, make it a home.
Ah, I'm sure I'm rambling. But that's how I feel. And I don't believe I have it now, or that I have for a long time. And I don't think I can truly have a home until I have a famaily and a life that I have built from scratch.
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Cellar Door.
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