Recently, I found people around me were starting to say that they wanna, or perhaps asking whether they should go home. Well, I just arrive here last month, so I don’t really feel miss my home just yet. But, for those who already far away from home, for months and years, I think the fading memories of one own’s home would be bit bring about a sublime pain.
Our feeling is somehow fragile, somehow enough to let us see the same imaginary again and again within our consciousness. Yes, we likely drove ourself to the past, to the “good time”, where we feel secure, a form of security that holds loneliness away.
To look upon a mirror, perhaps I find myself were longing nothing so much different. I know, the answer would be home. But before that becomes a small part of selfishness, I shall let the life guides me on the path that opened under billions of stars. Then the whole world shall be my home, where I born, life, and rest until the time comes when you need to pick me up again.