anywhere but home

they always told me,

i'm such a never-home kind of girl when I was 17.

and i found it funny that right now, the tides have turned,

I prefer to be in a particular area of my so-called-home: 

an ode to the introverted extroverts, my own room.

only when and if, i am in my own room, i felt home.

maybe it was never about going out or staying in.

it was never about the "home".

heck, i was never familiar with the concept of home anyway.

i just always tried to escape the living room.

why was it named the "living room" when I felt the most dreadful (the opposite of lively) there, anyway?

— 

i was never home.

literally, and metaphorically, 

it's impossible for me to get home.

it's impossible to get somewhere that you don't know the directions of.

it's impossible to get somewhere that only exists as an idea, and an ideal.

it's impossible to get somewhere that you never knew a memory of, nor you have the interest to build one there.

i have always tried to find a home.

i tried to find it in a building. i failed. 

i lowered my expectation, thanks to the society's kind compromise: 

"Home isn’t really a place. It’s the people who makes it what it is."

ok, to the society-mandated and biologically-instinctive first people that should make it what it is,

I decided to finally be true to myself and say, nope, they are not.

i stoop lower to soften the blow:

“Home is not a place… it’s a feeling.”

If it's a feeling, why do I only feel at peace when I am not around the people I share my "home" with?

If it's a feeling, why on 7 days I only felt home for 2 hours and that's when I went home to solitude?

And even in that solitude, the concept of home felt so alone, because shouldn't I at least share that home with — i don't know — not just myself?

I never liked the point where I was being asked "what is home to you".

Because, if by the society standards and even alternatives yet even kind compromise:

if home is a place, or a feeling, or certain people that I must have shared the place in the first option with,

then I have to learn, and guess, make up, and make do an answer,

based on my limited privilege of having one.

And in that sense,

then I am a full-time nomad in search of whatever the hell home is,

always transiting from place to place, people to people,

only to find that feeling stays 2 seconds to flee before my eyes.

And on to the next home I thought I'd have finally found,

I'll always be on a loop of journey to no ease, nor peace,

because who am I kidding,

how can you find something when you don't even know what it looks like?

or heck— felt like?