There are so few places I feel comfortable in this world.

Every place that I have made my own, each little nook that I have strived to find and successfully create is locked in my mind forever. It doesn’t matter if it’s still a part of my life or even capable of being a home anymore, I remember what they are.

The dorm my friend and I stayed in for a week at Gallaudet University– I have a home there. My dad’s old house– the living room was where I felt most myself. On the couch watching Netflix with my dad, Rissa, and mom, I can sleep soundly here. An old friend Alice’s bed, where I’m pretty sure I cried more tears into her shirts than I’d cried ever in my life combined, I felt good there. My old best friend Lauren’s embrace; she always gave me a hug when I needed it most. Cuddled into my mom on particularly bad nights when I can’t get out of my head, she is my home. IHOP at any hour on any given day, week, or month, I know who I am in this building. My own car is a safe space. Sitting shotgun next to Mason or driving with him beside me, the feeling of comfort is alive in my body.

I have little crevices in the world where I know I am okay.

For someone who does not feel at home in her own head, these places are a blessing. I can breathe here. I can feel hunger here, not just make myself eat because I have to.

I have given so much in so many ways; I will recognize that until my mind lets me believe it. I deserve to take a little when I feel alive. I’ll blast the music in my car and speed a little, take a chance on a speeding ticket and some of my hearing with it. I’ll pick something we can watch with my family; it’s the only time I ever watch anything. I’ll lay my hand on Mason’s leg as he drives, just so I can keep contact.

As I get older, I will find new places, and the old ones will start to fade away. But I will remember the feeling of home in every section of the world I once created, and I will never forget.