back home - day 2

day 2 was a roller coaster.


i started the morning in Barrhaven —

the first place that ever felt like home.


i traced the old bus routes i used to take to Carleton,

walked through the plazas where i lifted weights,

ate cheap meals,

and tried to outrun loneliness.


it felt like time folded in on itself.

i wasn’t just revisiting places —

i was revisiting versions of me.


then i saw Bren.


my old roommate.

my brother.


we spent a full year together —

show marathons, wing and movie nights, late–night debates, shared meals,

arguing about characters like it mattered more than life. 

we did every little thing together.

we were just 2 boys, away from home.

lonely, but just needed company, the right company.


those weren’t just memories.

they were moments that held me together

when i didn’t know how to hold myself.


when he opened the door and saw me,

he froze like he was looking at someone else.


we hugged —

and for a second,

i felt every version of me collapse into one.


i wanted to cry.


not from sadness,

but from realizing:


some people don’t leave.

they live inside you forever.


bren is that.

when i think of ottawa,

he will always be a pillar in my story.




later that night, the energy flipped.


i met my little cousin’s boyfriend for the first time.

it was chill —

until she crossed a line.


in front of him,

she joked in a way that attacked my dignity,

insinuated something that disrespected my character.


for the first time in a long time,

i felt rage.


not the loud kind —

the clean kind.


the kind that steadies your spine.


i checked her immediately.

not out of ego,

but self–respect.


i let her know:

“that will never happen again.”


old me would’ve cut her off.

disappeared. cold.


new me understands:

this life isn’t about cutting people out,

it’s about building boundaries strong enough

that people think twice before trying you again.


i forgave her.

but i will not tolerate disrespect.


ever.


that was my lesson:

you can have a soft heart

and still be unshakeable.




day 2 taught me something:


home isn’t a place.

it’s the people who see you —

and the boundaries that protect you.


— Mr. Mak


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