Home, hmm. To me, home means everything and nothing, all at the same time. This feeling is a result of spending the most influential years of my life, searching for what and where home was or perhaps who were the people that made me feel at home. My parents' marriage had almost reached its end when I was about 10. In spite of us living under one roof, those four walls were just that - four walls. A house never felt like home. I'd feel the same way I had felt when we moved out of a house as when we moved in - foreign.
I gave up on trying to feel at home, in my house. Ever since, I've either felt at home at different places, with different people or in different situations but never at one single time and never in one single house. I kept searching for the bits and pieces of comfort that I felt resembled my idea of what a home should feel like. I grew up along the way and stumbled onto many realizations. Things look very different from what you thought they were, when you are looking back at them. I've either had no memories of my past spent in the various houses we've lived in or I've had the clearest of visions from my past that I will never forget. It takes a lot to evoke all the emotions that I've felt for over a decade. This is my endeavor to portray my life in a blur - my parents, my understanding of "home" and how these experiences have shaped me into the person I am today.
My home isn't fixed, isn't static, it's got my personality - It isn't chained to one definition. I can now proudly say, home is what I make it. And this is the reason why.