I wanna go home.

Not that home.

That home makes me feel unwanted.

Makes me question if I was ever wanted at all.

I don't know which home,

but definitely not that home.

That home,

tears drop.

Pain comes

that even pain reliever no fit help.

Aches I've never felt before.

Moods I've never known how to name.

That home?

My head hurts.

My heart hurts.

My mind hurts.

My soul bleeds.

And I'm not supposed to say anything...

Well, 'cause I'm 22, or not?

I'm an adult

behaving like a child

because apparently

being grown means knowing how to swallow pain quietly.

I want to cry,

but wetin go do my steeze?

I want to scream,

but my lungs can't handle it.

I want to disappear

for just a little while,

but apparently even that is too much to ask.

I want to drink,

but I don't want to become like him.

I want to say something,

but somehow saying I'm hurting

makes me selfish.

People go through worse.

People deal with it.

People survive.

So why can't I?

Maybe I'm just a lost cause.

A burden.

A gold digger.

A child wearing an adult age

and pretending the shoes fit.

I'm losing my mind.

And I'm losing more than just my mind, actually.

I'm losing pieces of myself

I don't know how to find again.

But I'm not all that important, abeg.

Besides, Jagunjagun ni mi

So...

we move.