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Will I ever have a home again? 

The kind of home that feels like a second skin, where every corner is familiar, every sound comforting? 

What if I leave, and no matter where I go, nothing ever feels quite right? 

Can I really step away from the warmth of my mother’s voice calling me to breakfast, from the way my father’s cough echoes through the house in the morning?

 I’ve lived my whole life with these things.

 How do I let go of them, knowing I might never find them again?

What if I leave and never feel safe again?

 They tell you that it's just another step, that you’ll ‘adjust.’ But how can I be sure? 

How do I know I won’t wake up one day and feel like a stranger in my own life, in a house that’s supposed to be mine but feels so foreign?

 Will I still be the girl who laughs at the dinner table with my siblings, who can walk into the kitchen and find comfort in the smell of my mother’s cooking? 

Or will I become someone else entirely?

What if I never belong anywhere again?

 They say a wife makes her husband’s home her own, but how can I create a home when my heart still lives in the one I’m leaving behind?

 Can I trade the sound of my family’s laughter, the small, insignificant moments that now seem so precious, for the unknown?

 Will I ever feel that sense of belonging again, or will I always be searching for it in places that can never give it back to me?

How do I leave behind the small moments that mean everything now?

 The way my mother makes tea just the way I like it, the way we talk about nothing at the dinner table, the way my siblings’ laughter fills the house. 

I used to take it all for granted, but now, the thought of losing it makes me question everything.

 Will those moments fade from my memory, or will they haunt me in the silence of a new life, in a house where no one knows me the way they do?

How do I trade the warmth of my family for a life with someone I barely know?

 What if I leave everything behind – my home, my comfort, the people who have always been there for me  for someone who turns out to be the wrong person?

 What if I wake up one day, in a house that’s supposed to be mine, and realize I’ve made a terrible mistake?

 How do I live with that? How do I live with the emptiness that comes from giving up everything for a future that might never feel right?

Will I ever find a home again, or will I spend the rest of my life feeling like a stranger?

 Am I really ready to be someone else’s missing piece, to fit into a life that isn’t mine, in a house that doesn’t hold my memories? 

And what happens to me, to the girl who still needs her mother, who still finds comfort in the simplest things, who isn’t ready to leave?

 Will she disappear, lost in the silence of a life that never quite feels like home?

Am I ready to lose the parts of me that belong here, with my family?

 What if I leave, and in doing so, I lose the girl I’ve always been?

 What if, in trying to build a new life, I forget who I am?

 What if I can’t find my way back? 

I'm scared scared of leaving, scared of changing, scared of the silence that will fill the spaces where my laughter used to be. 

What if I’m never the same girl after I leave?