Missing home
I guess I wrote this out of necessity because, well, I've left my diary at home.
My "home". Second home.
Guess I felt there wasn't very much to write about at home eh? (now this is the real home)
And it's true, there isn't.
Back at "home" I could go out every, single day.
And then down here I'm bored stiff.
Okay, okay. So I've fessed up to my friends there that I wanted to remake myself, run away from my past identity.
I don't know. maybe it's something about the heat that makes me cranky and want to run away. Or maybe it's just the way people are here that makes me act like that towards them. Or maybe it's my parents continual fighting and annoying traits that just pisses me off. I don't know.
Either way, my "home" is a great place to escape, and let's face it - I probably have more a life there than here after spending barely 9 months there. That's just great.
Anyway. Back to the main point of the post.
The irony of it all is - I don't miss home. Not one bit. I thought it would be the lack of responsibility which calls me home (okay sometimes even a girl of 19 years just feels like kicking up her heels and not worry about simple things for once). But no.
I certainly don't miss the people here.
Neither do I miss the way of life.
I can't lie and tell you I miss anything about everyday life here - the hawker centres, the shopping malls, the roadside stalls, the parks. Why? Because I don't.
I know it sounds horrible. It probably is. You're thinking: Just barely a year and she's sworn her allegiance to another country? I'll tell you: damn straight!
I don't want to come back if I can. The further I can go from my parents, the better.
Okay, they're my parents. Still...their constant bickering, cynicism, jadedness at life has certainly taken it's toil.
I feel more free... and more like myself when I was away.
I'm sorry to say this, but I don't miss home at all.
My "home". Second home.
Guess I felt there wasn't very much to write about at home eh? (now this is the real home)
And it's true, there isn't.
Back at "home" I could go out every, single day.
And then down here I'm bored stiff.
Okay, okay. So I've fessed up to my friends there that I wanted to remake myself, run away from my past identity.
I don't know. maybe it's something about the heat that makes me cranky and want to run away. Or maybe it's just the way people are here that makes me act like that towards them. Or maybe it's my parents continual fighting and annoying traits that just pisses me off. I don't know.
Either way, my "home" is a great place to escape, and let's face it - I probably have more a life there than here after spending barely 9 months there. That's just great.
Anyway. Back to the main point of the post.
The irony of it all is - I don't miss home. Not one bit. I thought it would be the lack of responsibility which calls me home (okay sometimes even a girl of 19 years just feels like kicking up her heels and not worry about simple things for once). But no.
I certainly don't miss the people here.
Neither do I miss the way of life.
I can't lie and tell you I miss anything about everyday life here - the hawker centres, the shopping malls, the roadside stalls, the parks. Why? Because I don't.
I know it sounds horrible. It probably is. You're thinking: Just barely a year and she's sworn her allegiance to another country? I'll tell you: damn straight!
I don't want to come back if I can. The further I can go from my parents, the better.
Okay, they're my parents. Still...their constant bickering, cynicism, jadedness at life has certainly taken it's toil.
I feel more free... and more like myself when I was away.
I'm sorry to say this, but I don't miss home at all.