Leaving a world that once satisfied me but no longer holds any weight. It no longer quenches my thirst for life nor satisfies my appetite for growth.
The place I once laid my head at and sat ate the dinner table surrounded by family and friends can no longer sustain my butterfly wings. I have outgrown the nests and need more room to stretch my feathers.
It is not my mothers fault that I no longer find comfort in her breasts, the same breasts that nourished me as baby girl eager to connect with her for food and life.
It is not my fathers fault that I no longer need to sit on his lap and hear his heartbeat to know that real fathers do exist and I have mine all to myself.
It is not my brothers fault that the conversations we had amongst chores no longer keep my thoughts boxed in and make me question their stance on life.
It is no one faults but my own. I have come accustomed to a new home that has called my name for centuries.
A home that never sleeps but remains quiet when I decide I need to. A home the makes my heart beat faster than a sounding trumpet on the glorious day of Fourth of July. A home that strengthens me and hears my voice cry out when I need attention.