“A False Home”
What do you think of when the first time you hear a word home?
The green grass around the house, the smell of old style baking that your mom did, or a very loud old songs from your father ancient speaker
I remember it was one sunny day after school
I came home and talked to my mother
“Mom…” I was holding my tears
I tried to finish my sentence--
“My friend’s mother passed away”
I lost my control and cried really hard
The next day I came to my mother again
“My friend’s cat just died”
I cried again, just as hard
Then on the next day I came again to my mother
But it was Sunday, no school
“Mother, I just watched a movie, her mother also passed away”
I cried again, still as hard
I told my mother—how I can feel others’ emotions
My mother said it was my super power
I cannot fly, I am not strong
But I always see goods in people
I always do until I forget to see goods in me
I am so busy to be someone that people deserve
Until I forget what I actually deserve for my self
And every time I moved to one place to another
I always thought of the place being the one as home that I am longing for
Lately, it has been coming in such a weird form—a cold-hearted person who loves her tasteless foods
When she stop talking to me, maybe she is just tired
But she will talk to me again first, right?
When she refuses to only stay with me, maybe it’s just complicated
But she will find the way, right?
When she is being cold, maybe it’s just the way she is
But I do love her no matter what, no further question
Mother, I still do see goods in people
But I also need someone to helping me to see goods in me
Because It’s been a very long, tiring ride
I just want to be at home, Mother
Not only a false one