The Freedom to Live.
I took the long way home. It had made sense before as I trudged my bags up the stairs. In light of what just happened there were reasons I was staying. I moved my clothes in, harnessed a new way forward and released all judgement due to the lack of understanding from my fellow peers. This didn’t make sense now but the hurriedness in which I left was by pure choice. In the back of my mind, I had come to the conclusion that my life was meant to be lived. It had made me realise that now was the time that I could cocoon back home, to the everlasting presence of my parents. My mum had a dislike for him, a dislike for all the ways in which he was. Maybe he was good for some but a mastermind in his foolishness for others. We were young, immature and we held a fascination for booze. We lived our lives in complete denial and the absurdity of the situation did not fall into place until after I left. I stepped back into their home. I had memories of my childhood bak...