in search of...

What do you want out of life? Do you know what you're searching for in this life?

If you wake up at a different time, in a different place, would your life be different? Would you wake up as a different person? Would life have changed while you were asleep?

I know what I want. I know how I'm supposed to work to get there. But many times, no man is an island. And many times, circumstances influence situations. So many different things, so many different people, so many different desires, inspirations, responsibilited, commitments. My life becomes a navel of things, where everything flocks to become one. Separation becomes difficult, because to separate one would unravel a whole yard of thread that connects to something else.

It's been raining a lot recently. The skies have been gray and dark, mirroring the sky that I see through my eyes. Rain passes after a while, but darkness comes every night. And under the cover of darkness, clandestine things happen. Things no one knows anything about, except one person. The one those things happen to. Darkness provides a kind of protection to do what you want and not be judged, not be seen. But darkness is stifling. How do you see past the darkness into light? Everyone needs some light, do they not? Without light, one would always remain blind. Blind to beauty, blind to all things magnificent that happen around the world.

It's tiring. I long to go home, to be home. But a house does not necessarily make a home. Today, I wanted to go home. I was tired. But thinking about home made me want to be out again. It's a vicious circle.

Home. It's a place for free expressions, not first impressions. What does it matter, first impressions? A happy home makes all the difference. I've always believed that so long as you're happy, you can do anything. Why turn a home into something so unwelcoming that no one wants to return home? Would an unhappy home still be a home?

A home is a place of shelter, a place for protection. Contrary to that, I feel a need to protect myself each time I go home. To protect myself from the underlying dynamics that no one sees. Each day, before I return home at night, I pause outside the door. Preparation for whatever silent dynamics that might be played out. Is there a need to do that? It is, after all, a home, is it not?

It's so tiring. I just longed to go home today. To be home and to be able to do what I want without getting it from anyone. Yet, I couldn't go home. I sought refuge in someone else's house. It's been this way for the longest time. Whenever I'm sad or in troubled times, I seek refuge in someone else's house. Just not my own.

It's so tiring. The tension and the silent wars. No one quite knows how it's going to be like the next minute or the next day. Seeing as the younger one does not care about anything except her own life, it falls on me to try and deal with the tension and the silence. And it's exhausting me out.

I want nothing more than to come home to a place where I can call my home. Where I can do what I want, when I want. Where I make my own choices, and no one faults me on that because they trust me to do what is right and what would lead me to my own future and my own happiness. I want nothing more than to come home to peace, protection, shelter, happiness, freedom, love. Home.

When?

I know what I want. I know what I'm searching for in my life. I know I have most parts of what I want. Just this one part.

Happiness.

That's what I want. That's what I'm searching for. And that's what I have -- most parts of it. My happiness is complete. Just this one part, this one part has yet to happen. And without it happening, with no freedom, no place where home is home, the weight is always on my shoulders.

Atlas. Carrying the weight of the world on his shoulders.

When?

Soon, I hope.