Come Home To Yourself Novels & Stories

My real family, the ones who will always be there for me, as I kept on driving I said to myself “ Don’t worry family, I’m on my way home ” move forward with my life. I’m going home to people who love me and care for me who treated me like family. Lexi, Morocco, Josephine, Willis, and Rocky. My real family, the ones who will always be there for me, as I kept on driving I said to myself “ Don’t worry family, I’m on my way home ”

But I knew it hadn’t. Over the past three years, the time Cicio Russo spent alone with me had grown shorter and predictably shorter. He would rather stay in the grand study, where he dealt with all his family business, facing those dull shelves with bulky books, than come home to be with me and my everlasting warm company. The meals I reheated again and again, the lights that stayed on night after night—it all felt like they were telling me: He was not coming back. One night, Cicio came home late and paused for a moment when he stepped through the door.

I rose to leave, and as I reached the door, he added, almost to himself, “I’m glad you came home, Christian. Even if you don’t see it yet.” I didn’t answer. Because I wasn’t sure if I did.

He turns following her finger with his eyes to where I am already watching him. "So if by the time the bar closes And you feel like falling down I'll carry you home Tonight."

Before they left, there were a few highly-anticipated movies that were being released in theatres, and now it was released on streaming services. There was a small theatre in Colene's place. They brought the takeout into the room and ate while watching movies. Gabriella said with her feet crossed, "This is so comfortable! I want to buy a single-story house too. It's so nice to live alone." She felt embarrassed for staying at Colene's place. She also didn't want to return to Astral Heights. Then, she could only buy her place. Colene looked up. "Why don't I sell the other half of this place to you? We can stay together; isn't that even better?"

When I get home You better not be there, we're placing bets you won't Shed your modesty And the only thing to leave behind is your own skin On the floor Don't you shy away Manifest a ceiling when you shy away Searching for that feeling Just like an "I love you" That isn't words Like a song he wrote, that's never heard Don't you When you get home You barely recognize the pictures they put in a frame 'Cause you shed your modesty Don't circle the track Take what you have And leave your skin on the floor Don't you shy away

"It's late. I want to rest. You can go home." ***

he said. "They have come back to themselves," I said. "They have come back to the pack. They have come back to the light. They have come back to hope. They have come back to love. They have come back to each other. They have come back home. They have come back to the place where they belong."

"You're going back home." What?!

She turned back to me, "What's the actual problem? Like beyond the obvious." I looked at my unfinished notes. "I just haven't been there in a while and I got used to not being there and now I have to go back and I'm not—" I stopped, "I just don't like going home." "Me neither." She said simply, like it was the most normal thing. "Mine for completely different reasons but same energy. Sometimes home is just a place that requires a version of you that you've been trying to rest from." I looked at her.