...you know, there's a time when you feel that you are looking for a place where you actually belong.
Few years back, when I heard someone who went overseas for her studies and later work wanted to come back home because she's tired of being "overseas", I laughed because I could not imagine how someone could be tired of being "overseas". Tired of doing the laundry, tired of doing the cooking, tired of cleaning. I laughed because in my 17-year-old self then, I longed to be as independent as I could be, being able to do everything myself and all by myself. How hard was doing laundry, cooking, cleaning by yourself?
Now being away from home for a long time myself, I finally understand what she meant.
Tired of being away from home.
It's not about being independent or not. It's not about being able to look after oneself without depending on other people.
It's about family.
People who cares, people who give selflessly, people who are related to me by flesh and blood.
It's the sense of belonging.
After a day of work or whatever, I want to go back to a place where I know I belong. A place where I know I am being loved. The place is home where I can hear the voices of daddy, mommy, and the other two little ones.
The first two years of my life away from home doesn't prove to be of any problem. Things were great. The discovery of freedom. Everything else was new and fresh. I was plainly a student who studies and have fun and do nothing else. I have no responsibility whatsoever but just study. How hard was doing laundry, cooking, cleaning by myself? It's a piece of cake. Make it cheesecake, please.
Then I just grow up. I study all the time. I work all the time. I grow up a lot. I slowly have taken over the responsibility of taking care of myself, of surviving in this dog eat dog world, of feeding myself.
I have finally learnt the true meaning of Home. At the end of the day, it is the only place I want to be. The fatigue from work or whatever, home is the "Delete" button.
It's different from a house with friends, no matter how close those friends to me are. I know I have friends who would rush over to me faster than a rocket when I fell and bruise myself. But it's different from family. Friends, after all, have their own family too. They can fly to me in a rocket, they can fly away too in a rocket to where they belong-their own family on MSN, or Skype in their own rooms. I would be left alone then to lick the blood dry if I have fallen too hard.
I'm not a MSN person, nor am I a Skype person. Not a telephone person either. Not that you would not see me on them. I am on MSN most of the time. But I always see a barrier there. There are a lot of things that I can't bring myself to talk about on MSN. MSN is a tool of deceiving. Small talks are fine. For real heart matters, I rather wait till I could see the person in real life. Video call is a kind of compromising.
I think I'm selfish. Because by being face to face, I know I have him/her 100% and not shared between chat windows. Blog is different. It can be for heart matters because for people who do come back, are people who cares.
I know I would not be able to survive in the real world because I'm too loner in nature. I might not seem to be, but I actually am. A loner can die pretty young due to heart congestion, if you get what I mean. Loners are picky bunch who just don't talk to anybody.
Friends come and go, although best ones would still be tied together with a long transparent string that's visible after a shake of sparkles over them. People would change even when you are looking, or at least you thought you are looking. But family is the ones who stay. They stay no matter what.
I am coming home. I surely am.
