Stories of my Life

I found this quote today: and it got me thinking … Home isn´t a place, it´s a feeling. And even though I love my family and the house we´re living in and my friends and my work and basically everything – I haven´t come home yet. Maybe I felt home when I was little, when my only worries where to get a new dress for my Barbie dolls or to get that new Benjamin Blümchen cassette. But I can´t really remember it. So I´m sitting here on my bed, which I also really love btw and where I cuddle myself in my sheets when I´m scared or really really sad, and I wonder if I ever find my home, where I truly belong to. I like to believe in true love and that my soulmate is somewhere out there and that he is my home. Sometimes I dream about my future and see myself living in England, being married and having two daughters. In those moments I feel as if I´m almost there. I feel happy and can´t wait for my future to turn to the present. But what if I´m wrong? What if I don´t have...