I know it seems really hard to admit but sometimes you just want to scream and run away. Run away from everything, the people and the places and go home. But what happens if you have nowhere to call home. So you have a roof over your head and you’re not living on a street, but a home?
The dictionary isn’t even brief about what a home is it goes on for quite a while. As a noun it is:
• A place where one lives; a residence.
• The physical structure within which one lives, such as a house or apartment.
• A dwelling place together with the family or social unit that occupies it; a household.
• An environment offering security and happiness.
• A valued place regarded as a refuge or place of origin.
• The place, such as a country or town, where one was born or has lived for a long period.
In the thesaurus:
noun
1. A building or shelter where one lives: abode, domicile, dwelling, habitation, house, lodging (often used in plural), place, residence. Chiefly British dig (used in plural). See protection/exposure.
2. The natural environment of an animal or plant: habitat, haunt, stamping ground. See territory.
3. An institution that provides care and shelter: asylum, hospice, hospital, shelter. See protection/exposure.
adjective
1. Of or relating to the family or household: domestic, familial, family, homely, household. See kin, group.
2. Of, from, or within a country's own territory: domestic, internal, national, native. See native/foreign.
"Home is the place where we are treated the best, but grumble the most." - Source Unknown
I suppose it really does rest on what you determine as home, whether you do believe that a home is that place with four walls, some windows, the door and a roof. Maybe even in some case it will have a nice garden with roses and lavender, a winding path, small pond, weeping willow and a picket fence. Yet, what if a home is where the heart really lives, a place where you know that you belong there more than any other place in the world. How confused does a person have to be to feel that they have yet to find that place, and will they ever find a home?
One of my friends says I am not from this planet, I have no qualms about this I suppose my home is in heaven, yet so is his in the end but he still has a place of this world and on this earth. Some would have thought that a belief in God would have solved this missing home problem, and still there is feeling of as ever being lost. Maybe nine homes in 17 years is to much?
I think that sometimes more than ever I really wish for a home; somewhere that I really feel myself. I think college has brought me one step closer to that because I am no longer afraid of the person I am towards other people. I am myself. I don’t think my high school really got to appreciate that on one to many occasions. I think some of me was always fake, always trying to make other people happy, always doing as I was told. Maybe that fearless girl that could contend with anything, get everyone into order, listened to others was, essentially, just a person trying to exaggerate herself to make herself seem more real to others and herself. But then maybe I am that person. The problem with pretending is that at sometime you cross the point of the quiet person you where, the person that wanted to talk about her problems, the person who was scared and turned into the person she was pretending to be.
Just to make matters more confusing, maybe that is the way you are supposed to find “who you are” or maybe that was how I was supposed to do it. It’s not as if people hate that me and I really can’t see me going back to that slightly shy awkward person. So I am me and I like me. Just do I have a home.
I sit here in my college common room come study area and I think about my parents. What would they think if I said I had no home? It’s not the fact that they don’t try its just always the nagging feeling of incompleteness, I don’t suppose it is even that. It’s just there, it’s something you know.
Maybe my home is in heaven? But what if we all have it all wrong. I try not to pass on that fact.
Generally when life gets to hard we all try to bow out, run away and so on we shut everything up inside and try and forget leave the memories so far behind that all other matter seems to have left you as well.
Basically my God reigns. It’s a random thing to add but on top of the am I this person who everyone thinks they know but they really don’t and whether I have a home or not, this is a pretty major thing. Maybe I need to explain this one out. If my God reigns then I have a home and maybe by the feeling that I don’t have home my home is in heaven and I should not try and deny that living here is, at least, awkward. And if my God reigns, which he does, then he will accept who I am. So am I completely waffling you begin to wander? No, this confused person jabbering on is getting to a point just one that she can’t see but God is obviously calling her to express.
The dictionary isn’t even brief about what a home is it goes on for quite a while. As a noun it is:
• A place where one lives; a residence.
• The physical structure within which one lives, such as a house or apartment.
• A dwelling place together with the family or social unit that occupies it; a household.
• An environment offering security and happiness.
• A valued place regarded as a refuge or place of origin.
• The place, such as a country or town, where one was born or has lived for a long period.
In the thesaurus:
noun
1. A building or shelter where one lives: abode, domicile, dwelling, habitation, house, lodging (often used in plural), place, residence. Chiefly British dig (used in plural). See protection/exposure.
2. The natural environment of an animal or plant: habitat, haunt, stamping ground. See territory.
3. An institution that provides care and shelter: asylum, hospice, hospital, shelter. See protection/exposure.
adjective
1. Of or relating to the family or household: domestic, familial, family, homely, household. See kin, group.
2. Of, from, or within a country's own territory: domestic, internal, national, native. See native/foreign.
"Home is the place where we are treated the best, but grumble the most." - Source Unknown
I suppose it really does rest on what you determine as home, whether you do believe that a home is that place with four walls, some windows, the door and a roof. Maybe even in some case it will have a nice garden with roses and lavender, a winding path, small pond, weeping willow and a picket fence. Yet, what if a home is where the heart really lives, a place where you know that you belong there more than any other place in the world. How confused does a person have to be to feel that they have yet to find that place, and will they ever find a home?
One of my friends says I am not from this planet, I have no qualms about this I suppose my home is in heaven, yet so is his in the end but he still has a place of this world and on this earth. Some would have thought that a belief in God would have solved this missing home problem, and still there is feeling of as ever being lost. Maybe nine homes in 17 years is to much?
I think that sometimes more than ever I really wish for a home; somewhere that I really feel myself. I think college has brought me one step closer to that because I am no longer afraid of the person I am towards other people. I am myself. I don’t think my high school really got to appreciate that on one to many occasions. I think some of me was always fake, always trying to make other people happy, always doing as I was told. Maybe that fearless girl that could contend with anything, get everyone into order, listened to others was, essentially, just a person trying to exaggerate herself to make herself seem more real to others and herself. But then maybe I am that person. The problem with pretending is that at sometime you cross the point of the quiet person you where, the person that wanted to talk about her problems, the person who was scared and turned into the person she was pretending to be.
Just to make matters more confusing, maybe that is the way you are supposed to find “who you are” or maybe that was how I was supposed to do it. It’s not as if people hate that me and I really can’t see me going back to that slightly shy awkward person. So I am me and I like me. Just do I have a home.
I sit here in my college common room come study area and I think about my parents. What would they think if I said I had no home? It’s not the fact that they don’t try its just always the nagging feeling of incompleteness, I don’t suppose it is even that. It’s just there, it’s something you know.
Maybe my home is in heaven? But what if we all have it all wrong. I try not to pass on that fact.
Generally when life gets to hard we all try to bow out, run away and so on we shut everything up inside and try and forget leave the memories so far behind that all other matter seems to have left you as well.
Basically my God reigns. It’s a random thing to add but on top of the am I this person who everyone thinks they know but they really don’t and whether I have a home or not, this is a pretty major thing. Maybe I need to explain this one out. If my God reigns then I have a home and maybe by the feeling that I don’t have home my home is in heaven and I should not try and deny that living here is, at least, awkward. And if my God reigns, which he does, then he will accept who I am. So am I completely waffling you begin to wander? No, this confused person jabbering on is getting to a point just one that she can’t see but God is obviously calling her to express.
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