I want to go home. I'm sitting in bed right now, inside of my physical house, but it doesn't feel like home. My chronically ill father always reminds me of how he's so dissapointed that I'm not his "little girl" anymore. My mother has bpd and never really feels "there." And my siblings, I sometimes wish were never born. I feel so selfish. I wish I could just run away and live with the people I actually love and care for. I wish I would only be surrounded by people who actually love and care about me. I want to hug my girlfriend, and tell her how she's my world. How she is one of the only people I feel I can trust to be there for me. As soon as I am old enough to move, I will take that chance, if I make it to then. Maybe I'm saying this because I haven't taken my meds, or because its night. Maybe I'm just selfish. I can't stop overthinking about everything. I just want to go home. But home isn't here.