The Wrong Way Home

I admit. I cannot count. Get me a calculator and still I miss some figures. But what is wrong in wanting a home? In wanting freedom? What is living under parental roof but an extension of the umbilical cord? For me, it would have been a transfer from 1 mother's to another. Like a bird still living within the parent's care when what I would have wanted was to build my very own nest. To feed and not be fed. To soar toward independence. That is my life long ambition. A goal I thought I see it coming only to be dampen time and again. Each time the nearer, each time the more painful. Each time I get stepped on, each time I felt more invaded. No reasons good enough. Nothing but unfairness would enter my ears. I would not step away from my decision, my stand. I would not be swayed. For it is my life, my concern too. I would not bear to rest beneath another's place. Never at ease. Never at peace. Always a few steps away from home.