No Place Like Home This work has been published in the Teen Ink monthly print magazine.


   Where is this place? I seem to lose myself when I walk through the door, frightenedtendencies behind a closed door don't add up to much. My past swallowed myfuture. I'm sure others might make it out alive, they might even return for anostalgic visit, but not me. If I make it out of here, it will be in flight, astraight fleeing from my fear. My exodus won't be complete though, ever. Thisplace will snag my shirttail as I leave and tear the fabric, it will hangcarelessly on the doorway as a subtle reminder of what once lurked behind it. Anda piece of this place will have burrowed down further than any tick or parasitecould possibly travel, and will burn me from the inside out, tormenting me.

I think people will notice. Either way they will always seem strange tome, something I will never fully understand. An awkward sense of belonging inevery alien environment, like a truly suave barbarian would have felt. Alwaysappearing like I'm not quite sure, but always looking good about it. The one inthe crowd who sticks out, the one who doesn't belong, for no reason at all, justbecause I never did. Happiness will never approach me again. The times it did, itseemed so distant, so wrong, like something was following me. A sensation and afeeling only meant for someone else, someone from somewhere else. When I tried tofake it, we all knew, and it ended badly.

I let you get too close, andyour touch hurt me, the slightest graze, barely noticeable, sets my skin on fireand makes my eyes dry. I wondered if you felt it, if you wondered why it justwouldn't work, why there was nothing there, no connection, why you looked intothe eyes of a man who walks and talks yet sees no life.

It's becauseof this place, you know. This home I can't find comfort in. A house of lumpysofas and stained carpets molding me to take my place in the generation ofimbalance. Just another dreamer with insomnia, a dreamer whose own bedroomscreamed too loudly with silence for him to find peace.

When a creak inthe stairs sends fright through his body, that man is no longer a man. When thisplace swallows me whole, I hope I don't scream. I will probably know when it isabout to happen; the walls have been getting closer recently. When it all goesdown, I hope it doesn't cause too much commotion. In the end it's really just away out, and any way out is still a way out, right?




This work has been published in the Teen Ink monthly print magazine. This piece has been published in Teen Ink’s monthly print magazine.






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