Long essay (3400+ words) culled from my rambling sent pile of emails from nearly half a year ago. It’s about the passage of time and other things.
I want to go home. I want to a place where I belong. I’m tired of being stuck in a place where I don’t belong. I’m tired of pushing against the currents of normalcy. I’m tired of lagging behind in just about everything (or so it feels). I’m tired of not knowing…about anything.
But I am lost. I turn around to face nothing but shadows and silence. Except for breaths – my own breaths, the only indication that tells me that I’m still alive. Well, or at least I think I am. I look around to find nothing. Where is home? What is home anyway? Did it ever exist? Did it once exist but slowly disappeared?
Logically, of course, I have a home (not that I’m remotely close to living on my own). But can any safe, quiet place with a computer (and maybe a bed) be my home as long as its familiar? Do I even really have a home? A place where I feel like I belong? A place to settle, to be “the place” of what I am to be?