Sorry for the shaky panorama, but my room is where I spend the most time at home.
Home. It’s kind of a loaded word for me. Of course, I have a physical home in the United States – Virginia specifically, although I’m originally from Ohio – but sometimes it doesn’t feel like home. For me, home is a place where I can be myself and I have a support system. I feel most at home either at school or when I’m reading. I’ll start with what school means to me.
School has always been the one place where I am on a level playing field with my peers. I’m not much for extracurricular activities because I have cerebral palsy, which basically means I can’t walk by myself. The exceptions to this are high school marching band – I was a percussionist – and my fraternity, Alpha Phi Omega.
School has always been like a second home to me because my teachers – most of whom I have been fortunate enough to have – are able to see past my physical shortcomings. They see my potential and believe in me, even when I might not believe in myself. And of course, I can’t count out my friends either. Throughout college, my random group of awesome friends has been my support system through thick and thin.
Books have also been a sort of home for me. I’ve always loved to read anything I can get my hands on, but there are some books that are special to me. These stay with me because the stories are so good that the characters become like family. No, seriously, they almost make up for my lack of biological siblings. The best books are ones where I can see myself in the story.
Another way books are a support system is they allow me to escape my reality – if only for a little while. I can forget all the crap I’m dealing with in my own life and focus on someone else’s problems.
I may not have the most conventional ideas of home, but I wouldn’t have it any other way.
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