I’m learning… There are two very contradicting sides to me… I like feeling like a stranger and I like being surrounded by friends. I like being alone and I like having someone to love and hold. Does that make me strange? Perhaps. But it’s what makes me me.

I love to travel. I want to see the world and gather as many experiences as I can, while I can. But I also long for a home. I used to have a home, then I didn’t. Then I went back to the home I grew up in, and then I had to leave again. It was heartbreaking. Until a week ago I thought I was sinking into depression again. I meditated to snap out of it. It made me calm and serene but that gnawing feeling of sinking didn’t go. Standing in the balcony of my hotel room, I’d think to myself, “I’m happy, my soul is happy, then what is this restlessness I feel!”. Now I see that I was just stuck in between my two sides.

The newness of everything around me hadn’t started to register yet. I wasn’t really missing anything or anyone… that’s another thing that makes me strange – I don’t miss much – but that’s for another time. I thought about my parents, my pets, my friends, but only in a fond sort of way; not in a desperate yearning way. What I was feeling, in fact, was an urgency to start feeling like a stranger in a new place. But ironically, I needed a home first.

Now I have one, and so I can go out and feel like a stranger in a new place all day long but at the end of the day I am home. I meet people at work who have taken place of friends. And then I am alone again. I can sit in a crowded restaurant and enjoy a meal by myself, that’s my jam. But somehow the idea of coming back to a hotel room isn’t my thing. Strange, right? I guess I’m the sort of person Airbnb’s “don’t go there, live there” campaign is designed for! I’m sure there are others like me. And I wonder if they realize this about themselves. How did they find out? How did it make them feel?

I had no idea just how much the idea of a home means to me. And this isn’t a real home by any means, and definitely not my forever home. But it still satiates my deep rooted desire to belong. But then I don’t truly belong, I like to remain detached. I don’t know if this detachment is a subconscious defense mechanism to safeguard myself against likely pain, or true wisdom that leads to a higher state of existence that is beyond worldly concerns. I guess I will find out in due course of time. After all, there’s so much about myself I learn each day. So many strange things!