Not perfectly written and I love it!

I have a home and it is where I grew up in. It is where I studied my first education, met my first friends, and where I found and met my first love. My home is not something that I can constantly complain about. As a matter of fact, I think all its imperfections made it even more perfect. And, as I grow up and begin to see the bigger picture of what life really means, my aspirations and dreams grew with it as well. However, even though how much I adore my home, I figured that I wanted to be in another unfamiliar place and not just for me to be independent, but for me to adore and love my home even more - besides they say that absence makes the heart grow fonder. That unfamiliar place became my second home and it simply amazes me how possible it was for a person to consider two homes in one lifetime. I travel - from one home to another. When the situation in my first home gets a little bit harder for me to bear, I immediately imagine myself going back to my second home, and when the situation in my second home becomes a little bit more intoxicating, I immediately rush myself back to my first home. Everybody tells me that I am strong and I believe that I am. But, right now I am thinking: was I just strong because I know I can run from one home to another? What if the time comes that I wouldn't be able to go back to my second home for a long time? Would I be that strong enough to bear and face my first home? I have never been uncertain in my entire life. I have always been proud of myself when it comes to handling problems for I never ran away from it. I mean, I am and was never the type who prefers alcohol over crying just to forget my problems and struggle even just for awhile. I am the type who hates pain, but loves to feel the every second of its throbbing until its gone or until I'm too tired and dehydrated to entertain it. However, with this backpacking from my one home to another, the thought scares me that maybe I was unconsciously running from all those problems all along. When I first knew about my father, I walked so fast even without destination - I didn't wallow in one corner nor cried. I am now in my first home and Man! I can't wait to go back to my second home. Before coming here, I had a plan. I planned to prepare for my brother's wedding the best way that I can, spend time with my friends as intimate as possible, be with my lover as often as we could, and to top it all, comfort and love my mom in the best possible way that can. But, everything just seems to fall out of place. I feel that no matter how much I try, I can never do the right thing in my first home while in my second home, I was the problem solver, the person whom everybody runs to. Everything I say or do always seem to cause trouble and when just when I feel so happy, my loneliness just keeps on knocking on my door that I do not have the strength nor the power to decline its entrance. When I'm extremely depressed and no one is there to talk to me - which rarely happens - I get even more depressed because I feel alone even though I am not. I am becoming more selfish as I already was. In reality, I am still that little-miss-bratty-daddy's girl who is head over heels dependent. I want to scream to my heart's content and break things until there is nothing much left to break anymore. I want to write until every letter and every punctuation marks are all used up. And most of all, I want to walk and walk hoping that I might find a third home (Oh God I'm planning of running - again). I wish somebody would just come up to me - I don't care whether its a longtime friend or a stranger - and shout to my face that I am the weakest person ever. Of course I would put an act that I am insulted and I would defend myself, but after all the commotion subsided, I would secretly thank that person for acknowledging the part that I was never allowed to play in this stage I call life. Don't get me wrong. I once had that person. I once had that hero, but as simple english implies, "had" is in the past tense form of a word.