SONG REFLECTION: "Home" by CamelPhat & RHODES
- Karen Di Gloria

- Jul 24
- 4 min read
Music has always been a mirror for my inner world. It speaks to the parts of me that words alone can’t reach — stirring up memories, emotions, and questions I didn’t know I had. When I listen, I don’t just hear the lyrics — I feel them. I let the music take me inward . . . into reflection, feeling, and deeper awareness.
These song reflection posts are my personal breakdowns of songs that moved something inside me. I explore not only what the lyrics say, but what they awaken in me — emotionally, spiritually, and energetically. I ask:
What am I feeling, and why?
What part of me is responding?
How is this connected to my relationship with myself and my soul?
How can I see this as happening for me, not to me?
Let’s go deeper with this one . . .
I, I know everyone hurts differently
As a shadow washes over me
I just don't wanna leave
I, I know anyone can slip away
It doesn't always have to be this way
Over and over again
But it isn't you that I've been running from
Will you still be there when I come back home
I come back home
Because it isn't you that I've been running from
Will you still be there when I come back home
I come back home
I, I know everyone hurts differently
As a shadow washes over me
I just don't wanna leave
I, I know anyone can slip away
It doesn't always have to be this way
Over and over again
But it isn't you that I've been running from
Will you still be there when I come back home
I come back home
Because it isn't you that I've been running from
Will you still be there when I come back home
I come back home
SONG REFLECTION:
This song echoed through me like a memory I hadn’t fully faced—yet always felt.
I first heard it in a space of quiet unraveling.
Distancing. Detaching.
Yes, from others—
but not from coldness.
From truth.
I couldn’t keep pretending.
Couldn’t keep showing up with a smile
while feeling hollow inside.
I needed silence.
Stillness.
Room to hear myself again.
And when I did—
the truth came.
Some of the connections I held onto weren’t real.
They were built on hope,
on fantasy,
on the potential I wanted to see—
not on what was actually there.
And that hurt.
But not as much as betraying
the part of me that always knew.
The hardest realization?
I had drifted far from myself.
So far that “home” wasn’t a place or a person anymore—
It was me.
My essence.
My soul.
And I didn’t know if I’d even recognize myself
when I found my way back.
Then the lyric came:
“But it isn’t you that I’ve been running from.”
It hit like a mirror.
Because the truth is—
I wasn’t running from someone else.
I was running from the parts of me
that saw too clearly.
Felt too deeply.
Whispered “this isn’t love”
but stayed anyway.
I’ve fallen for potential.
For words that danced like poetry
across the aching parts of me—
but never became action.
I waited.
Rationalized.
Made excuses.
Wrapped toxic dynamics in spiritual language
and called it growth.
Labeled neglect as patience.
Until I couldn’t anymore.
Until I saw it for what it was:
Me, abandoning myself in the name of love.
But this song—
it feels like a homecoming.
A soul cry.
A hand reaching out from the dark, asking:
“Will you still be there when I come back home?”
Now I ask that question to myself.
Will I be there?
Will I choose me this time?
Will I stay?
Will I forgive myself
for abandoning the truth I always carried?
Can I reclaim the parts I lost
in the name of love, hope, and illusion?
This isn’t just a love song.
It’s a coming home song.
And this time,
I’m staying.
Because it’s not about them anymore.
It never was.
It’s about remembering who I am—
beneath the noise,
beneath the stories,
beneath the waiting,
beneath the ache.
SOUL TAKEAWAY:
This song doesn’t just speak to heartbreak.
To the ache of forgetting who you are.
And the courage it takes to come home to yourself—
even when you’re unsure what you’ll find.
Coming home is raw.
But it’s also holy.
REFLECTION PROMPT:
Take a breath. Close your eyes.
Let the lyrics echo inside you.
Then ask:
What parts of me have I abandoned to keep the peace, be loved, or belong?
What “homes” have I clung to—people, roles, identities—that never truly held me?
If I stopped running . . . what truth would I face?
Can I offer myself the love, safety, and presence I keep seeking in others?
Let the answers rise—not for fixing,
but for remembering.
Because you were never really lost.
Just waiting to be found
by you.
If any part of this touched something inside you, I’d love to know.
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Until next time,
Karen Di Gloria
💖🎼✨











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