the way home

I was born on a cold winter day when the snow of miracles fall down from heaven and covered the world. Covered those with injured hearts and those who have committed sins the white snow of miracles will heal them all, with exception of one

I remember everything about my childhood from which kinder garden I went to everyday detail. But sometimes I wish that I could forget.

I was born into a very big family. My grandmother has seven siblings with her it means they are eight siblings and my grandmother is the oldest. I remember we all got along so well back when I was a child everyone laughing and smiling we all were happy. But suddenly everything changed. When I turned 4 years old I remember that there was a lot of fighting right in front of me. No one cared if I saw the fighting even if they did notice me they say: ignore her she's just a child she doesn't understand.

But did. After some time I got tired so sometimes in the middle of fighting I ran, ran far from the house and the noises and when I found myself alone I usually cry my eyes out.

I remember thinking: I don't want to go back home. I wanted to run away. I was tired of all the fighting that was happening I remember mumbling to myself that it's not normal for my family to fight like that.

Even though I wanted to run away so badly I found myself back home every time. By the time that I've reached home the fights were usually over. But with each time my family decreased in members. Every time that my family came back they were less and less until one day they never came back again.

The house that once was full of laughter and happy faces became quite and dark. The only thing that I heard each day was the squeaks of the door each time my parents came and left the house without saying a word to me or each other.

By passing of the time I felt more scared and unsafe. The place that I once called my home became more terrifying than my worst nightmares. I felt lost and confused, I didn't understand I wasn't in my home anymore, this place isn't where I belong.

It didn't matter how much we changed our house I still felt unsafe and I didn't understand why?

I was with my parents, I should feel safe but I didn't. Every day that I was growing up I felt like I didn't know them like I was living with total strangers.

And with that, I felt helpless, scared, like I couldn't trust anyone anymore. So in time little by little I shut everyone out, my parents, my friends, I didn't talk to anyone anymore. I just wanted to die to be left alone, I felt like an outsider.

Something inside me kept telling me to run, run, runaway and don't stop, go, go and don't look back. Don't stop until you find the place that you belong, go, go.

When I turned 8 I couldn't fight the voice inside my head anymore I didn't have the well so I gave in; I was so tired of fighting a fight that would never end, or at least I thought.

When I surrendered myself everything in my head got shut down. Part of my brain that controlled my imagination turned pitch black, cold, and a little foggy I was all alone with the only thing that kept me company; the voice.

When I gave in to the voice I thought that it will stop but I didn't the voice got louder and it was like a broken record, it kept repeating the same thing over and over again.

As the time past, I could feel that I'm becoming more depressed. Not even my parents talked to me and that made me feel like an unwanted child. And with that, I sank more and more into the darkness of my mind.

Ever since we moved from our origin home I had nowhere to go and cry so I stopped crying and pure everything inside myself. If you wanted to take a look at this situation from a psychology perspective I was torturing my inner child.