28 May 2017

The Introvert’s dilemma

You have changed houses , schools , cities towns villages and in time lost 'friends ' , 'almost friends ' (?) All of this done so many times so that the entire cycle of making friends and holding onto them tires you out.
So you stop trying at all . Nothing feels permanent as nothing is permanent. 
The cities you once called 'your own ' have now changed beyond recognition . 
What is home after all ? 

An amalgamation of all the small towns you grew up in? Your subconscious mind combines them all together to form one giant mega-city which is  an ever growing weed ridden farmland because you haven't settled any where yet; you haven't put in roots.

What is a home city ? 
A place where you have worked/are working in . A place where you may stay in as long as works keeps you and then you cut ties and are kicked out. 

Which is your home city ? A place where your parents live ? The place you called home once and you spent the better part of your  student life in? 

That was years ago now . You are not the same, the city is not the same; both of you grown up and grown apart.  No one knows your name there , the streets have turned into wide roads and the charm has given way for chaos . 

How sad it is to get lost in a city you once , less than a decade ago owned. Or did you?

What is home ? A place where you park yourself for a few years only to leave again , or that place where you go after leaving everything behind . Go for a fresh start go to get out of a rut. 

Where is home ? Is it where you are, or where your heart is ? 

Which is 'your ' city after-all ? Or all we are doing - rather all I am doing is passing through . 

It is true that that the city does not belong to you ; you belong to the city . If that is true who and where do you actually belong ? And does anyone really want you there ? 

Will anyone want you ?


  1. what a paradox isn't it! what was once "mine" my home my village my city today doesn't even recognize me.

    beautifully written. could identify with most of the lines

  2. Reading you makes me think. Feel things I probably don't wanna feel so explicitly now. Homeless in the middle of the night which is. I am a runner, you know. I just don't wanna stay in any place long enough to call it long enough. I usually don't like the constraints people beget. And so I Ieave forgotten fragments of myself in all the places I've so abandoned. Now if I go back to each of them, they won't embrace me ever. And why should they..

    1. That is the problem, I call myself Vagabond someone who does not want to stay at one place for a long period of time. I constantly want to leave - planning my exit before I have arrived -

      Yet there comes that one dreaded point in time when you want to stop and stare and find one place you can whole heartedly without batting an eyelid call your own, your home.

  3. We shall not cease from exploration
    And the end of all our exploring
    Will be to arrive where we started
    And know the place for the first time.


    That is home, to me.
    I think, it is what calls me, cradles me in without me having to try. And to know where it is, I have to stay away from it long enough. Again, and again.

    Blasphemous Aesthete