Stolen

Of all the representatives, of all the people, you had to be mine. And you had to come back into my life right when things were starting to look a little less bleak. You had to be the one to step in and remind me that I've got to fight for or against everything I've ever wanted. I can't fight back this time. I'm tired of the choices I've had to make, tired of deciding which one is going to hurt less so I can live with it and not deciding which one I want more. You're not helping, but maybe this is just another nudge to leave. Maybe I'm not really ever supposed to belong to one place, but to people instead. I'll just be an object, loved dearly, but placed on a shelf when it's time to grow up. This object had a place to rest, but the shelf got dirty so the cleaners threw the object out. I can't say I wish you the best and happiness, because I don't. I wish you would get out. I want my home back. You've had one, and while you're not there intentionally to hurt me... it still does.