When you grow up in one place with a set of people, when you study in another place with a wildly different set of people, work nowhere & everywhere at the same time without a physical connection to anyone, and live in a two-bedroom where everyone has their own business to go about - what, where and who do you call home? More importantly, where do you feel at home?

If you ask me, I’d have a lot of answers. You would too if you live a similar life as mine. I’d have named the people closest to me (most of whom aren’t in the country anymore), I’d have named my favorite café (where the chairs aren’t comfortable enough anymore), I’d have shown you my cats (who barely understand a word I’m saying, which is fair considering I don’t meow), I’d point to my laptop (which is now a reminder of my ever-growing list of things to do).

I take two desperate measures in my search for this missing home:

The first is a disappointing attempt to figure out what changed between then & now. To clarify, when I say ‘then’ - I’m referring to a point in time probably a few months ago when I did not feel this gaping hole in me. I found the answer, time. I now have an adequate amount of non-work time, as I redeem the rewards of my past self. But for me, this is a punishment in the guise of a reward. Time spent working has now become time spent wallowing over this missing feeling.

The second is a desperate measure - I try & peak into the future hoping to see myself without the absence of this feeling. I call it desperate not for the reason that I can’t accurately predict the future, but because the frantic hunt for the feeling continued.

As I consider the possibility of my definition of home being a romanticized and unrealistic one, I realize that is a vain attempt at trying to fool myself.

My dopamine hit has historically always come from getting the most amount of work done - that is a price I can no longer afford (or am willing) to pay. Now, while I’ve transitioned to a (relatively) calmer way of working, I am left starved.

I’m not trying to draw a parallel between these two starvations. I’m attempting to crack a laugh at these ironies.

“I’m incredibly proud of the progress you’ve made with work at your age.” said a friend of mine while I wept like a child beside him. I ask: “To what end?” I can afford to rent out a two-bedroom apartment, but not a home. Although I am on the path of growth to many eyes, I’m on the highway to failure in my own eyes - just in very different ways. I’m hell-bent on taking the next available exit.

Now, while this hunt goes on for me, I will bask in the luxury of being able to experience moments of this feeling I call home - I find it in giggles, hugs, music, reading, some friends & colleagues, humans & animals I hold dear, and the occasional breeze of wind that makes me trip in the air.