Home

When I first met her, it felt as if I had known her in another lifetime.

It felt like I had found the thing I was supposed to find.

When I walked into that hallway,

I knew to expect the weird queers who focus way too much of their energy on being the most fucked up person in the room,

I knew to expect the narcissist white guy who feels he is so above everyone else he shouldn't even have to be there,

I knew to expect a familiar face and warm hug from a nice guy who actually wants to know how you are when he asks, how are you.

I never expected to find her though.

I never expected to walk into a lobby I had walked into so many times before and find the love of my life sitting on the bench.

I never expected to look over at the usually empty seat and see two girls who I hadn't before, occupying this normally vacant space.

I never expected to be so drawn to one of them, like she had the other side to a magnet I had been carrying around all my life.

I walked over and she gave me her seat,

she gave me her seat.

And you know that feeling when you sit down somewhere and you can feel the warmth from the last person,

usually it's a horrible experience,

usually, you feel a gross energy take you over,

but with her it was different.

With her the energy was like a million fairies had been sitting in the spot she oh so carelessly occupied,

with her I wanted to sit there,

in that spot,

with that warmth forever.

I didn't know why at the time,

but I kept thinking about it,

and pondering over why that warmth was so intoxicating.

And then it all clicked,

that warmth was so breathtaking,

so, illuminating,

so magical,

that warmth was home.

I looked at her for a little too long,

my eyes lingered on her face,

her eyes,

how she held herself with her shitty ass posture.

Looking into her eyes,

looking at her face,

standing with her,

it was home.

Talking to her feels like home,

sitting with her in a silent room is home,

She is home.

She is my home.