Coming Home

“Is a house really a home when your loved ones are gone?”

I don’t really get homesick. Maybe because for so long I never really had anywhere to call home. I always felt like I had to move through the world on my own, slowly building my resilience towards it and learning just how lonely it could get. But in truth, I’ve always been a sensitive guy, I feel a lot of things. I’ve never been able to see the world in an emotionally absent lens and that’s how I’ve been navigating life, with my feelings. And sometimes I wish that wasn’t the case.

These past few months have been, to put it lightly, interesting. I realized that I’ve found my home and yet I had to leave them so soon. The word home to me was never a place to begin with, I never felt any sentimentality towards things nor places as I’ve never had any chance to properly part ways with them to begin with. Home, to me, are people.

My people. The people that I feel the safest with, the people that make me feel like I can truly be who I am. And these past few weeks has made me realize that I had made a choice to leave my home, in seeking for something that I’m not even sure I wanted.

“Seeking something missing, missing something left behind”

I realized far too late that I had made myself a home with them, that for months I’ve been taking for granted the uncountable times that I’ve been able to be myself. As I sit here in my room, staring at a sky I can barely recognize, accompanied by the unrelenting wind of winter and spending months with people I can’t even begin to connect, I realize that I want to go home. I’m homesick.

I miss my old room and the way my bed squeaks slightly if I move a certain way. I miss my friends and how easy they’re able to light up my day. I miss my girlfriend and how soft and tender her lips are on my own, as she kissed me for the last time. And I miss myself, I miss being someone who lives for life itself, who values expressing oneself over everything, who physically couldn’t cry this often. I miss that part of me.

But I guess its futile, I’m already here after all and people keep telling me this is what I wanted. And they’re right, I did want this, but maybe not anymore. I long for something that I left behind, and the only thing that I can do is hope that I find my way back home.