nostalgia and other dark thoughts

Home. The other day i pined for home. i am not the overtly nostalgic type. But when nostalgia attacks me, i am left reeling.

Home -open space, blue skies, Ema’s kitchen garden, the peaceful silence peppered with the singing of birds and the chattering of my little cousins, watching the birds fly home with my head on my mother’s lap, the lazy, unhurried meals with my family. Where the moments linger to catch a breath.

The home i knew – would it still be the same now that i am not the same anymore?

My home. My family. And thousand of miles away, here i am searching for meanings that just might not exist, chasing rainbows that lead to nowhere, with people i know and yet do not know.

And yet, the path to home has overgrown with thorns. i do not have the strength or will to cut through it and go back.

Here i am, with my nest in another world. The wings that brought me here would not flap to take me back. i have emerged from the cocoon – to still find myself a caterpillar.

Suddenly, i am so tired. Of this life. Of the meaning that eludes me. Of mundane worries that crease my forehead and crumple my sleep. i am tired of fighting - To defend my beliefs, my truths, my dreams. i want to let go – to let go of my sanity, drop by drop, thought by thought.