(no subject)
There is a line from Garden State....I'm going to bastardize and add to it as I see fit.
Home isn't a place...it's an idea...a place where you feel completely safe. After a certain point, you lose that.
"Home" becomes more of a series of ideals than an actual physicality.
I came home today, to find my house empty. Parents were out, little brother was on a date.
After sitting alone by myself for hours, eating dinner alone, watching a movie alone, I came back to Dayton, to my friends.
My home doesn't feel like "home" anymore...it feels like "My Folk's House."
I'm comfortable there, and I know that anything around there that I want I can take...but it isn't "home." There are acres of land, and there is my childhood dog Millie (now with gray muzzle and arthritis).... but regardless, it is no longer "home" to me. My bedroom is as sparse as the guest room, and lacks my aura, my presence...the room has nothing of "me" in it.
"Home" is a collection of ideals...and after a certain point, you lose those ideals, in favor of building and creating ideals of your own, your own "home," your own place in the universe.
Maybe it's just me, maybe it's everyone. But...when I went to college, it unconciously felt like I was pressing the Pause button for my family. Whenever I come home, my little brother is still 14, watching TV and playing video games. My dad is still addicted to "Half-Life", and my mom still loves "Diagnosis Murder."
But...I'm afraid it doesn't work that way.
Mom and Dad go out way more often than they did when I lived there.
My little brother dwarfs me and is quite the ladies' man, in his own right.
My "home" stands empty more often than not.
I have reached that point.
....and I am afraid.
Home isn't a place...it's an idea...a place where you feel completely safe. After a certain point, you lose that.
"Home" becomes more of a series of ideals than an actual physicality.
I came home today, to find my house empty. Parents were out, little brother was on a date.
After sitting alone by myself for hours, eating dinner alone, watching a movie alone, I came back to Dayton, to my friends.
My home doesn't feel like "home" anymore...it feels like "My Folk's House."
I'm comfortable there, and I know that anything around there that I want I can take...but it isn't "home." There are acres of land, and there is my childhood dog Millie (now with gray muzzle and arthritis).... but regardless, it is no longer "home" to me. My bedroom is as sparse as the guest room, and lacks my aura, my presence...the room has nothing of "me" in it.
"Home" is a collection of ideals...and after a certain point, you lose those ideals, in favor of building and creating ideals of your own, your own "home," your own place in the universe.
Maybe it's just me, maybe it's everyone. But...when I went to college, it unconciously felt like I was pressing the Pause button for my family. Whenever I come home, my little brother is still 14, watching TV and playing video games. My dad is still addicted to "Half-Life", and my mom still loves "Diagnosis Murder."
But...I'm afraid it doesn't work that way.
Mom and Dad go out way more often than they did when I lived there.
My little brother dwarfs me and is quite the ladies' man, in his own right.
My "home" stands empty more often than not.
I have reached that point.
....and I am afraid.