Friday, November 10, 2006


It's weird to be at home now. I have trouble differentiating between my two homes when I tell people, "I'm going home" or "I'm at home." Home is where I live most of the time, but home is also where my parents live. I still have my room in my parents' house, my desk is still there, my bookshelf, dressers. In place of the bed I took with me to my new apartment, there's an Aerobed, which I sleep on when I visit on the weekends. It's a little difficult for me to refer to this home as my parents' house. I still feel that it's home for me, too. But I'm finding that as the weeks go on, I'm getting used to the thought of my apartment as home. I'm not sure if I like this realization.

Seeing my parents over the weekends after being away from them for a mere 5 days makes a huge difference. I get more weary of their conversations, annoyed at their comparisons as to who is in more physical pain from what, angry at how uptight they still are about everything in the world, sad at how much of this I'm missing while I'm out living the hedonistic city life. I kind of miss coming to this home after long days at school, my mom staying up and microwaving me some leftovers, being able to talk to them because they would listen.

I think that's why I've been reluctant to think of my new apartment as my home. There's nothing home-like about it, except that I return to it after my obligations outside are finished, and I leave it in the morning. The door is never unlocked or open, inviting me in. There's no one on the other side turning the doorknob right as I reach for it. The lights are always off - I enter into pitch blackness. The kitchen has been abandoned and is lost beyond all hope. The sound of the TV just confirms the blaring silence.

So now I know the reason why my brother, after living alone for years, wanted me to start living with him as he started his new job. So that when he comes home, the lights would be on for him, there would be sounds of the TV or music coming from my room, I would be there for him to talk to, and I would listen.

But it just doesn't do it for me.


Blogger Happy and Blue 2 said...

I really liked this post. It describes perfectly how it feels to finally move from home..

10:15 AM  

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