This is not a home anymore.

It is merely a house.

And barely that.

It is a place.

Four walls, making a rectangle.

Doors, creating privacy for those who live in it.

Windows, so everyone can see in, and the trapped girl inside can gaze out.

It is not a home.

Not a house.

It is a place.

A location.

A dot on the map.

Meaningless to anyone else.

Meaningless to me.

This simply is where I am forced to be until I can be released.

I am trapped.

Revolving my life around this dot.

But it is not my dot.

Not my home, not my house.

It is not my place; it is not where love is anymore.

It is a place of tension, lies, deceit, and hatred.

It is a place of secrets.

It is not welcoming, no longer bright and warm.

It is cold, dark, and unfriendly.

I don't want to be here anymore.

I miss my home.

But I will NEVER miss this dot.