It's my birthday today.
And my mind kept wondering about a lot of things; how everyone close to me showered me with cakes, and other stuffs as well. People I love cherishing me, wishing me good things in life and in death. And I am happy, I admit. Alhamdulillah for all of these amazing and precious people You sent to me.
And then I kept thinking, it was so hard to move on from the people I loved in the past because they were the ones I regarded as my home, the very beings that I was fond and I feel safe with. And of course, common sense, moving on from your home is gonna be very hard, isn't it? But the problem begins when you put your dependency and your vulnerability towards human beings who don't appreciate you, or love you the same way you love them...well, the feeling of coming home isn't mutual.
And when your home becomes indifferent, hostile even; you start to wonder, was it my fault, or things just naturally drift apart?
And then you keep seeing proofs that some things don't split so easily, friendships as strong as steel, love that is steady as a rock, and family sticking with you like a superglue, you start to wonder; was I the only one holding the line?
And then you realize how easy for them to push you away, pretend you don't exist, and you start to realize, your home never existed. The comfort you gave yourself is nothing more than a self-comforting ideation, a coping mechanism that helped you to eventually realize that they were just a figment of your hopeful fantasy.
Your home never existed. And yet it is still so hard to walk away from the remnants of nothingness.
