Today I am staying home. I need time and space to love myself. Friends keep asking where I am, I keep telling them, in a place where I should be. Where I long to be for a long while now. I never knew I missed it that much.
Before, I used to think home is just a space where I live or where my stuff are or where I sleep, but as I grow up, it has become more meaningful. Home is not just the physical space, home is where warmth reside, home is where I tucked my childhood secrets safe, home is where the laughter of friends can be heard because I confessed something silly, home is where I can heal my soul with stories of my past and dreams of the future, home is where my failures are etched in every wall with my signature proudly shining on it, home is the safe haven for my carefully fought and won battles, home is the laboratory for my ambitious and detailed plans that I dare not share with anybody but my shadow, home is my faithful witness to all my tears, home is the gentle receptacle to all my wailing and frustrations and fears, home is where my heart can be so vulnerable that it may stop beating anytime, home is where my heartaches can freely roam and haunt my sleep, home is the repository of all my greatest weaknesses and all my perennial strengths, home is where I can be intimate with my lover however big the distance between us, home is where I can be me and not be afraid of anybody's rejection, home is where I sing my loneliness and helplessness, home is where I love myself more than I fear myself, home is where I hopefully and mindfully resuscitate my true identity . . . home is where I embrace being human.
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