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After a long, long day at uni, you just want to go back to the comforts and warmth of home, relax, and rest.

But no.

I come home to find a shattered window and a deadly silence. The kind that falls after an argument. I go into the kitchen, to find remains of egg shells and vegetables decomposing next to greasy, unwashed pots and dishes. I come home to noone, and to be treated like I’m persona non grata.

Already at seven this morning there were shouts and screams. I was still in bed, hoping to get a dozen extra minutes of precious sleep before class, but no. Fight, fight, fight. And door slamming, bin kicking, and things throwing. somehow, amidst it all, one of the windows got smashed. A gaping hole, shattered glass, sharp as a knife. I hid under my duvet and hoped the nightmare would all go away.

This is really the final straw. I live at home, but this is not my home at all. Instead, I stay in my room, because everywhere else is either just filled with their stuff or the smell of stinking cigarettes. A friend of mine asked me why I’ve been staying in the library more and more and until so late. I didn’t realise it until she asked…but one reason is because I don’t want to go home. I don’t want to go back to all this mess and silence, broken only by shouts and fights. Horrible.

I’ve been thinking about it a lot lately, and I’m going to start looking for a place as soon as I’m done with my exams. I’d rather pay to live outside than live with people who don’t even talk to me yet leave everything lying around as if someone’s supposed to pick up the pieces.