Home is where the heart is, so they say. How do you know where home is when your heart has fluttered off without you? People also say that home is a safe place, where you can completely be yourself. How could you recognize home, if you've never felt that? If your entire life has been in a perpetual state of upheaval? Are some of us destined to never find that one place that could have been home? Is it okay to just settle with what we're given, no matter how tumultuous or toxic? Are we given only what we deserve, or do we deserve better...should we seek that better place, or those people that make us feel secure and comforable and fulfilled? When you've never known what home is...how do you know when you have found it? ...It is such an alien concept...one that you long to understand, but you're looking through a telescope at something obscure and intangible and you don't have the craft to take you in for a closer look. And it feels cold like winter without shoes. Like a fire that just won't warm you. Like wanting to talk to someone, but having no contacts at all...or having a hundred contacts, but none you can talk to. Like being lost and alone, and knowing there's nobody looking for you. Like being crushed under the weight of your heart, and there's no one to save you from drowning. Nobody wants to drown unseen...but that is the way of the world, isn't it? Each of us forever a lonely Wordsworth cloud, wandering restlessly against a cerulean fabric, sometimes gathering amongst other wandering clouds, only to silently dissapate on the dusky horizon.