There’s a kind of homesickness that doesn’t fit into words.
It’s not about missing a place — it’s about missing a feeling.
A feeling I’ve never even truly experienced in this lifetime.

For as long as I can remember, I’ve felt like a stranger in this world. Like I somehow got dropped into the wrong dimension, and everyone else received a manual I never got. The rules of this reality feel warped, twisted — a language I never learned, filled with unspoken codes, hidden agendas, and subtle exclusions.

People speak in smiles but think in knives.
They move in flocks but act alone.
And me? I’ve always hovered somewhere on the edge — observing, absorbing, but never quite in it.

I tried to belong.
God, I tried.

I wore masks so well I forgot where my skin began.
I mimicked, I mirrored, I molded myself into what they wanted to see.
But it never lasted. The mask always cracked. And every time it did, they looked at me like I had broken some sacred rule — one I didn’t even know existed.

There’s this painful awareness that lives in the body of people like me — those of us who feel like cosmic refugees, misfit souls born into a system that values silence over truth, obedience over authenticity.

I’ve felt the sting of side-eyes, the hum of laughter behind backs, the cold kiss of double standards.
And I’m tired.

I’m tired of pretending I understand a world that glorifies greed, lies, and manipulation.
Tired of playing nice with systems designed to break spirits.
Tired of dancing for breadcrumbs in a world drunk on distraction.

Netflix. TikTok. Mindless scrolling.
The Great Sleep continues — and I watch, wide awake, aching for something real.

Somewhere inside me, something is stirring.
For the first time, I feel a spark that isn’t fear or survival — it’s power.
Raw, sacred, unfiltered self.

I may not remember who I was.
I may not know who I’m becoming.
But I do know this:

I will no longer play by rules meant to keep me small.
I refuse to obey systems that poison truth to profit off pain.
I will not shrink to fit into a world that was never made for me.

Because maybe… just maybe…
I wasn’t meant to fit in.

Maybe I was meant to be the glitch.
The soft rebellion.
The soul whispering “wake up” into the noise.

So if you feel it too — that ache for a home you’ve never found,
That silent scream inside your chest,
That knowing that there’s more than this illusion…

You’re not alone.
You’re not broken.
You’re not crazy.

You’re remembering.

And maybe that’s the beginning of coming home — not to a place, but to yourself.

With Love

Sofy🐻