I always wonder if there's something wrong with me. Maybe it's all the time I've moved house over the years. Maybe it's me not staying in any place for more than two years at a time. Maybe it's because as I grow older the time I stay at one place also proportionately becomes less as years go by.
Two years.
One year.
Half a year.
Three months.
Two months.
Even at my younger years I never spent too much time at home.
Due to circumstances I spent most of my time at school, going home only to sleep.
Is that why I treat the house as a hotel?
Is that why I do not, and have never missed home?
Just a thought as I look at all the posts on FB, ask these people who miss home, all these people who have never celebrated their new year away from family, in a foreign country.
Not to boast, but I've experienced this a few times already.
So the point of this is, am I a bad person for not missing home? For not missing family?
The only time I missed home is when I had my heart somewhere else. But now that my heart is back with me, albeit beaten and bruised, I feel nothing.
I am home.
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