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Think of Home

Randy would often be on the edge of sleep, or just waking up, when he would realize he wasn't home, where he felt he needed to be, where it was familiar, peaceful and comfortable. The last two and a half weeks felt like an entire lifetime, and the life he knew before felt like someone else's life. A life he only had distant memories of.

He had no other choice but to emotionally disconnect from that place, for now, in order to hold onto the sanity he had left. He couldn't think of what may be going on there, or he couldn't live in the moments of the here and now.

He could choose to stay and make the most of this opportunity or choose to think of home. His progress had been slow, his heart wasn't completely in this, and he feared his heart would never be ready to fully commit to the entire idea of recovery. His heart was torn between two places and spaces. He was divided and his soul couldn't fully operate, no matter where he was.

The only thing that kept him going was the idea of home, where is heart wasn't fully allowed to be anymore.

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