This House Don't Feel Like Home Lyrics นิยาย & เรื่องราว

POV: Jaxon Home sweet home. The words feel empty in my head. I’ve missed this place, but not like this. Not like a prisoner in my own house. The hospital was white and smelled like bleach and bad food. This house was the environment I needed to get better.

Goddess, his tone changes so quickly that he’s giving me whiplash. “First of all, throwing money at me is not the solution. I don't care about money or things, I never have. I care about people. Besides, a new bed set or some pretty room accessories will not help me feel at home here. Nothing will make this place feel like less of a prison sentence,” I try to keep my voice firm but even. He looks hurt, but I don’t care. “I’ll never feel at home here, ” I add. I wanted to snap or to sneer, but that last sentence came out more of a pathetic whimper. I don’t have a home at all. And I never will again.

"But I also want to feel at home, to feel like I belong. I'm just... scared, Simon. Scared that I won't fit in, that I won't be happy here." Simon knelt in front of me, his eyes filled with understanding and compassion. "I can't promise you will never feel scared or uncertain, my love," he said softly, his fingers gently caressing my cheek. "But I can promise you that I will be there for you, every step of the way. Together, we can make this house a home, and create a family filled with love and happiness." As his words washed over me, a sense of warmth filled my soul. I realized that it wasn't the physical place that mattered, but rather the people I would share it with. And in that moment,

I finally found the song and played it instantly. I don't really give a damn about the way you touch me When we're alone You can hold my hand If no one's home Do you like it when I'm away? If I went and hurt my body, baby Would you love me the same? I can feel all my bones coming back And I'm craving motion Mama never really learns how to live by herself It's a curse And it's growing You're a pond and I'm an ocean Oh, all my emotions Feel like explosions when you are around

“Listen, you can continue lying to yourself for as long as you wish to. I cannot tell you what to believe. But I will tell you what I know, this, what you have here, is not home. Home is where your heart is, and you and I well know that your heart is in Atlanta.” We walked quietly to the backyard garden. My mind kept circling back to her words, trying to decipher every word she had spoken. She was right, my house was not home. Aunt May’s house had been home to me for ten years, as it was filled with love and affection, lessons and sacrifices. It was where I gained a family, and created my own special bonds with people I was ready to die for. Moving to my mother’s house in New York did not fe

Aaron The house didn’t feel like home. That was the first thing that hit me. Not because anything had changed. But because I had. The walls were the same soft color, the couch still slightly worn at the edges, the small crack near the window still there like it had always been. Even the air smelled the same—warm, familiar, safe. Safe. That word didn’t sit right anymore. I stood just inside the doorway for a second too long, my bag still hanging off my shoulder like I hadn’t fully decided to stay.

He was successful in finding me, and bringing me home. Home is not a place. Home is not a house or an apartment, or any kind of building. Home is a person. Home is where you belong with someone more than you belong in any space or location. I may not have a place to lay my head anymore or a building full of belongings and memories, but I have a person who needs me, a person who calls me home, too. How can I stay here, even in the warmth of my parents’ embrace, something I never thought I’d feel again, and not go back to him?

Each time I heard the words in my head, they became resounding and more belligerent, and I began to feel my head pound. I stepped into the house I’d been living in for the past few weeks. I called it a house because it had never felt like a home since the moment I tread in; it had never felt right to call it a home despite the fact that everyone treated me pleasantly and I was revered as the Boss's daughter. Maybe I was not used to it yet, or maybe my heart had already found a home that I had destroyed, so no place felt like home anymore. Heck, I didn't even find space at night.

“There doesn’t have to be complications. You and Adrian belong here. I want you to feel safe, comfortable. Not like you have to tiptoe around your own home.” “Is that what this is?” I asked, a hint of bitterness creeping into my tone. “My home?” His silence spoke volumes. “The two of us know that this place is never going to be my home. It might have been, one day. More specifically, I tried to make it one.” I said, ignoring the pain that I felt in my chest. “Not anymore, though.” He opened his mouth to speak but said nothing as he looked at me, as if in some mental war that I knew he wanted nothing more than to get through.

I am faithful to my wife no matter what. But if I’m honest, I wish I didn’t have to come home to this house anymore. I wish I could take the laughter, energy and love I feel outside of this house to my home. This place never felt like home, I knew there was never to be any joy from the moment we moved in. It just felt like a house I am meant to exist in. I crave a home, like the one my grandparents had. The one I know I could have had, if this was a marriage of love.