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He's my home. When I'm with him everything feels comfortable. I'm secure. The world isn't a scary place anymore. When I hear his heart beating in his chest as I lay my head on his shoulder it feels like my heart jumps up to keep time with his. We become one. He is home. He says he cares about me. He says he needs space to be himself. I'm his vacation. The place he can go when he needs to feel alive again. When the monotony of life gets to be too much and he needs something to help him have a break. I don't think he realizes that he does it. How can I be his vacation when he's my home?
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