Flying Home

You know all that crap about home being where the heart is? Well, what if you don't know where your heart's at? What if you go through your days acting like a nomad and living out of a suitcase? That's exactly how I've been feeling for the past year. Don't get me wrong, I love to travel. The excitement of packing and flying off to a new destination and everything that comes with it. I even like the fact that there's nothing holding me back (relationship-wise at least). But when the time comes for me to go home, I pause and think to myself "where exactly is that?". In my weak moments, it makes me sad to be so unsure, to feel as if I don't really belong anywhere... During those times I tell myself that someday, someday I'll find that place and maybe find that person. In the meantime, I'm trying my best not to hold my breath!

So what brought about this contemplative mood again? Well, I'm supposed to fly home this weekend for my (working) Christmas break. And again I get that feeling of not really belonging. I only call it home because of my nationality, but aside from that nothing really holds me to that place. Of course I visit a few relatives almost out of obligation, but aside from that really there's nothing else. So again I ask myself when will I ever be just content with what I have? What's missing? What's so wrong with the way things are? When will I ever find the bloody answers?!