Looking out the window of the hospital room and munching on egg Parantha and pickles, I think to myself - what is home? Different people have different perspectives and mine is probably the same as many others out there. Home is familiarity, home is safety, home is love and protection.
But what if your Home is constantly tumbling and falling and resurrecting like a phoenix out of the ashes? Home is stability, home is trust. But my Home.. my Home is more of a wreck.
Every night my body aches with this odd sort of uneasiness. Like a part of me wants to escape. I know where it wants to go.. I do. But reaching that destination and finding a place to stay is a far fetched thought. You see, my Home is found in the most unstable of places. In my broken relationships, in my search for myself, in my lack of true friendship and in my uncertainties. My Home is not home at all, if we go by the dictionary. Funny thing is, my Home and I.. our feelings aren’t mutual for each other. It rejects me, like everything else. And in that abandoned state every night, I must stay where I am, no matter how much my body pines for comfort. In my isolation I must stay.
True, my Home consists of people I love and things that matter, goals I want to achieve and dreams that have already come true. But people leave, like they have done before, things are never permanent, goals keep changing and dreams are easily lost. Some nights, like today, I crave for hugs. I crave for goodnight kisses and soft hands that caress my face with genuine feeling. And often I do get them, but certainty comes slow and goes away faster.
Maybe tonight, like all nights, I will say to myself, "I am enough". As long as I have my home to go back to. But tomorrow my Home will crash and burn and I'll be left begging on the streets and that's what scares me.. finding the strength to do it all over again.
But what if your Home is constantly tumbling and falling and resurrecting like a phoenix out of the ashes? Home is stability, home is trust. But my Home.. my Home is more of a wreck.
Every night my body aches with this odd sort of uneasiness. Like a part of me wants to escape. I know where it wants to go.. I do. But reaching that destination and finding a place to stay is a far fetched thought. You see, my Home is found in the most unstable of places. In my broken relationships, in my search for myself, in my lack of true friendship and in my uncertainties. My Home is not home at all, if we go by the dictionary. Funny thing is, my Home and I.. our feelings aren’t mutual for each other. It rejects me, like everything else. And in that abandoned state every night, I must stay where I am, no matter how much my body pines for comfort. In my isolation I must stay.
True, my Home consists of people I love and things that matter, goals I want to achieve and dreams that have already come true. But people leave, like they have done before, things are never permanent, goals keep changing and dreams are easily lost. Some nights, like today, I crave for hugs. I crave for goodnight kisses and soft hands that caress my face with genuine feeling. And often I do get them, but certainty comes slow and goes away faster.
Maybe tonight, like all nights, I will say to myself, "I am enough". As long as I have my home to go back to. But tomorrow my Home will crash and burn and I'll be left begging on the streets and that's what scares me.. finding the strength to do it all over again.
People leave I agree, but some leave with a greater and loving intention in their hearts. Those are the people who want to see you live, love and prosper into a stronger human being. Agreed that people leave but some of them leave but not for good.
ReplyDeleteI hope the world never proves you wrong.
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