No matter where we go, we take our baggage along. This baggage is our lives, who we really are? want is our plan? What is our deepest darkest secret? Our intentions, good or bad, whatever. So is our dreary home the place we run to or it is the place we run from? Home shouldn’t be made up of four walls, beams and a roof, home should be greater than this, it should be somewhere our worries vanish, some where we get peace. It should be where we are accepted, accepted unconditionally. The place where we may take off our mask and be free, it is our safe place. The place where we don’t have to pretend not be treated as an outsider, the place where we are happy.