The Weight of Homesick

The room is painfully still, the kind of silence that presses against your chest and echoes the emptiness in your heart. I sit huddled in a corner, my knees drawn up to my chest, tears spilling freely. My muffled sobs begin to fill the void, breaking the unbearable quiet.

“I miss home,” I whisper, the words barely audible but heavy with longing. Home, where warmth surround me and love isn’t a fleeting thought but a palpable presence. It is winter, and the cold outside seem to mirror the frost creeping through my heart. The ache was so profound that I fear my heart might shatter into pieces.

I’ve always been a person who finds comfort in home, yet here I am, far away, searching for something that feels just out of reach.