home

It’s about 3 months into college, and I call my dorm room “home” sometimes. Now that I’m home for Thanksgiving, I really do wonder what home is to me.

This room that I spent 11 years of my life leaving every morning and coming back to after every grueling day. It’s seen my sparse victories and plenty of pain. I’ve wept here, and it’s seen me through so much. Sitting here at my trusty old desk, an L-shaped construction with 3 glass pieces as the top, it feels unfamiliar. The lamps are now gone, the usual clutter filed away. It’s just another table. Just like my room. It has my old books, dresser, and furniture, but it doesn’t feel like mine anymore. This definitely was my home, but today it doesn’t feel like it.

My house is redecorated. My mom made sure of it. The old roads have new houses and construction. There are new neighbors. It feels surreal at times. This is not my home.

I’ve lived in my dorm room for 3 months now. I sometimes call it home by accident and catch myself. I wonder if this is my home. It’s where the people I’m excited to eat and hang out with reside. We like to joke that we’re a family, and honestly, it feels like it a lot. It’s where my new memories are created. The new sorrow, the new joy, and the new feelings. It has my clothes, my stuff, and comfort too. It’s closer, but this is not my home either.

My heart feels aloof, looking for somewhere to set down.

I feel less anxious when I see the creators I enjoy on Twitch or YouTube. I enjoy their companionship at times (especially music & singing streams), they give a flavor of familiarity no matter where I reside. They can calm me down, but they aren’t something I can call home.

Home is somewhere to settle down. It’s when there’s nowhere to go. Since graduating high school, I don’t think I’ve found this. During the first 18 years of my life, there was nowhere to go except to my house after every day. There’s a sense of contentment and comfort that I haven’t really really felt in a long time.

Maybe this has to do with the people in my life. Now that I’m missing someone that used to be a lot to me, it feels especially. They say with a relationship comes “security,” I like to say it brings this feeling of home. It gives your heart a point to settle on. That despite the daily ins and outs of life, there’s this centering point to return to. A person that committed to you. For me, the last time I really understood home was with that person. But they’re gone now, forever. That happens sometimes. I feel lost without a home. Insecure in my own bones.

Discomfort is not a bad thing. Lacking a home is not a bad thing. Being lost is not a bad thing. It’s what pushes us to grow, be stronger, and look for new things. It hurts a little, and stings a little, and feels uncertain main, but some amount of blind belief in yourself helps, so will the people around you. I hope to be stronger now that I’m on my own, but I also don’t doubt that one day I’ll be happy to find a new home with someone right. When that happens, may we have grown and strengthened into a true person and make a home for someone else too.