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My Lost Home (changes)

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1 Chapter - 1.455 Words - Developed by: - Developed on: - 103 taken- The story is completed

I was not born here, no, I come from a city where time passes differently.
I miss what I have lost and am trying to relieve my pain with this text because I am still homesick. At the same time, it's a response to a couple of experiences on TD, more specifically, it's a response to stupid, unfounded hate. That means I mix and pack a lot here.

    1
    Foreign, from today to tomorrow, from yesterday to today and from tomorrow to the day after tomorrow to the end of all time.
    Do you know what I lost when I left my home?
    You know what I won
    I lost more than I won, even though I used to think I had won more. I talked myself into it while crying myself to sleep every night because I lost my heart. Lost to my home, which was now so far away.
    One country, but different worlds.
    One country, but different thinking.
    I went with the will never to come back. Today I stay with the will to go, return one day. Return home. But unfortunately what was no longer there for me at home. He disappeared. Disappeared in the changing society. Disappeared from my thoughts, and yet, it is always there.
    All the good memories, all the bad ones. Oh, what did I give to suppress them, to forget what was experienced, to cope with what was experienced.
    I don't see myself anymore. I don't feel myself anymore.
    I used to live, today I strive to do a little more every day.
    I wander around blindly, my eyes closed from my own misery, but my ears open to hear the complaints of others.
    They all praise me for my success, for the great grades, but what is success when you have no more hope?
    Important for the future, a few months ago, I didn't want to experience it anymore and yet, but I have to give everything for it.
    Break my legs and I'll keep running just to get out of here faster.
    Look, look, my disgusting, false smile, at least it used to look like a smile, today it's a stupid-looking grimace, I've made it too many times to put it back. Reject them, but they want to see them from day to day. Face to face I give them offensive looks when I talk, then they keep silent, when I feel a little bit happy they are the first to drive it out of me.
    I can no longer breathe, I suffocate in hate,
    perish from having to function. Those who see that I no longer do worry. But most of them don't have the slightest thought when I stand in front of them, wiping my eyes.
    They keep insulting me, will continue to persecute me, it is only enough for them when I disappear.
    The truth is that I have long since disappeared, just a small, miserable shell from the once so happy personality.
    And now I'm sitting in my room again, writing this text, the content of self-pity disgusting me more than the one I'm writing about.
    What do I think I can actually achieve with it?
    This damn text will not change the world, it will not be an antidote to hatred, resentment, it will not end the corona pandemic and it will not free the prisoners in Guatemala.
    Don't think anything of this sticks ...
    Today people are celebrating you, for some banal reason, they think you're cool, until you're not what they're mainstream, bah, how I hate that word, understand, are.
    As long as you strive for change and take responsibility. Who says I could be responsible?
    Why, yes, why don't I go into politics when I know everything better?
    No, I'm a person too, a person who looks into the half-full glass and drinks it in one go to prevent the self-doubts from jerking my head.
    Now you like to get upset about the swear word, reader, if it doesn't suit you, then I won't suit you.
    What does it have to do with my home country? Oh, very much. If I hadn't been the one who left her in a surreal expectation to find my happiness elsewhere, if I hadn't done it and hadn't fallen, I wouldn't be doing this.
    My FF would not exist and my hatred of the common world would be much less, which is about as interesting for you as the fact that somewhere in the world a novice driver crashed and drove in a tree.
    But no.
    I can't give up.
    And if I don't want to see all the misery anymore, I take off and take a room with a sea view.
    Let other people tell me that my hobby of providing people with FFS about life is unnecessary when the world has improved,
    yes, then you no longer need the hobby. You waste your time and
    run down the battery of your cell phone to write this Ff here ...
    There will always be some dubious people somewhere who will twist your thoughts and put words into your mouth that you have never spoken .
    People who think they are gods, know what they are doing and can put you in their place because you are younger than them. They believe that the fact that they are older than you entitles them to do so.
    I struggle with myself, should I really publish this?
    Most of
    you will not understand the intent of the text. You will not understand what all this has to do with the loss of my home. That the title of this text is wrong because I never felt at home anywhere, at least I haven't felt it for a long time.
    I don't expect you to understand me, I don't understand myself either.

    The people, the people who made sure that I started to write these texts,
    explained to me that I couldn't change anything, that I was too incompetent and incompetent, too stupid, that everything would be fine.
    I've always wondered if that's really the case. Yes, ...


    people are not necessarily malicious.
    People are just stupid.


    I lost something I never had and feel that I miss it.

    I hate and love myself at the same time.

    But I'm too awake, too awake to sleep.

    This is not a farewell, not a conclusion,

    Lynx from the all tests author's cellar remains and will continue to bully you, with this grammatical vomiting diarrhea, also called writing style.

    That is not the end, no ...

    And even in real life, I will not be silent anymore ... I will

    report about the experience.

    Will no longer plug in silently.

    Will use anything that tries to kill me to feel alive.

    To be really strong.

    If I didn't have my family, I wouldn't write this here, I wouldn't exist today, but there are other people who don't have anyone.

    For me, writing is not something that you do at school, it is self-therapy for me, something that I can work with and finish with. Writing is my life and I am constantly working on improving myself, knowing that I will never meet my own requirements.

    The title. Writing is my home, when I write a text I'm happy, no matter how depressing the result may be for the reader, it makes me happy for a while.

    I had lost this home for a while, trying to be someone I never was. I wrote Ffs that sounded like they weren't mine, didn't dare to write under my chosen name Lynx.

    I understood that while writing this text.

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