Home

The last few months have flown by. I'm half way through my master's already and looking for a job. When did I get this comfortable? When did these surroundings become so familar? It's hard to believe that I'm thousands of miles away from home and yet sometimes it hits me and that feeling of lonliness seeps in. The day I landed here seems like a distant memory from a different time. It did not take time for this place to become home. No matter how your house is, it does become home eventually. At the end of the day you want to be in that same place. I think it's because it's familiar and gives a sense of security. And yet it is in this home that I feel homeless.

I am happy. But am I? I've seen the familiar tree outside turn its leaves from green to red and then shedding them. I have walked on the carpet of the fall foliage and precariously balanced myself on the frozen streets. I have tasted the coffees and the beers. I have enjoyed the weekends and cursed the weeks. I have read thousands of pages of intellectual writing and I have written pages of intellectual thinking. Through all these hours of preoccupation, somewhere in the back of my mind, there has been an ounce of discomfort- a wanting to be wanted and a wanting to not be a stranger. Yes. I am a stranger. Not always. But sometimes. Stranger to whom? I have been through so many lives in this one life, that I don't know anymore. I want to be home. I want to feel home. Home.