Normally I would keep personal stuff to live journal, but I felt I had to share.
I live in a single bedroom apartment. Alone. It's a nice place for what it is, neighbors are decent, I've got good heating and air conditioning, and a good internet connection. It's an okay place to live, but it's not quite home. Despite being close to family who visit often and are always there, and neighbors who are friendly, it's just shelter.
My concept of what 'home' is has been polarized by recent events. As I previously mentioned, I returned last week from a place that truly felt like home. I returned to my lonely apartment, having discovered that my truck, my only form of transportation, would be out of commission for the next few weeks. While the price of the upcoming repair is keeping me from commissioning that fursuit that I've wanted, it also carried with it an unexpected yet all too familiar feeling of isolation. This is my Tardis, my Serenity, and with out it I truly am stranded.
I came to the realization that home is more then a place to sleep, more then simple proximity to family and friends. Home is where you never feel alone. It's a place where there's always someone right there, always in reach when you need them. Home is a place where you will never be judged, never be told you cant, where you never have to feel afraid.
So, where's my home? It's not here. Despite being in my home town, where most of my loving family still reside, it's not here. It never was here. They can't understand why I am what I am, and they will never relate to be being a furry, let alone an atheist. Last week, I found my home not in geography or structure, but among people. People who are every bit as weird as I am, who welcome me as one of their own, as the siblings I never had. Oh, the things I would give just to go home again.
I think I need a hug.