We can never go home, we no longer have one

I’m tired. And I’ll continue to be tired until.. I don’t know when.

I no longer end my nights well anymore, and I just can’t help it. I fall asleep because my body can no longer stay up any longer, and not because I’m mentally willing to end the night and rest. I used to be able to reside in blissful memories and imaginations, and happy thoughts, but all that fills my mind now are thoughts of how I could get through tomorrow hoping that it’ll be a better day.

Carisse said you can’t forget because you just can’t, even if you wanted to. I think we can – we just don’t want to yet, maybe because we seek something better, or closure. But I’m not disagreeing, it’s just a point of view difference.

It really isn’t my intention to be blogging about all these feelings and emotions all the time; I want to blog about something else – nature, art, music, animals, earth, everything. I just can’t find the right feel for any of it because i can’t, not with everything that’s happening around me.

Sarah’s blog and tumblr provoked a series of intense thoughts, thoughts that I’ve once had to figure out on my own – thoughts about how we’re all helplessly binded to a cruel education system that requires us to head up. It’s an arduous journey to the top. But what’s more dejecting is, there is no top.

Why must there be systems? Why must there be education? Why can’t school be like a library – you pick what you want to read and you read only what you want to read. And nothing else – there is no ‘set of books’ that you need to read, only a book. And you choose how you want to move from there. There is no fucking point to this rant because at the end of it all it’s just a rant and it doesn’t fix anything. But I think for once I’ll indulge myself in the brief ‘release’ that covers and conceals the problem for a while just so that I don’t have to deal with it now.

I don’t like any of this. I don’t like how all my friends are consumed by the fear of not being able to be their best. I don’t like how the system chooses what it wants and make the rest seem worthless. And I don’t like how, at this critical point, I’m still unable to break perceptions, what more explain anything.

I miss her, very much. And I won’t move forward alone. I just cannot live my life knowing that I’d be leaving people I care for behind. And I refuse to give up on her, because the day I do would be the day I let go of the purpose to my life, and lose meaning to my beliefs that I’ve so strongly held on to. There are unspoken words to this, things that I won’t reveal about myself just yet. But eventually, perhaps.

Title’s from the song No Sound But The Wind by the Editors, and I’d just like to say that like Sarah, this song’s retreaded a part of me that was torn. I’ve been lost ever since it happened, with no memories, no home, and nobody to reside in/with.

Listening to this song’s provided me with a new insight: We all have no homes, there was never a home. We start our lives in packs, like wolves at the entrance of a maze that is this world; life. ‘Home’ is an illusion, one that lies in the hands of our families. It is an idea of a safe haven that we make for ourselves for us to fall into, to rest and to recuperate. It lives as long as our families live, and it dies when our families no longer exist.

The real home, I think, is something we can only find when we meet with death. We skip, we trudge, we run and we walk. We make our way through the intricate maze that is life and we rest along the way. On our way, we discover many things – doors to new places, pitfalls, maybe nothing. We all know the objective to our lives – get to the centre of the maze and end it all.

But where do we go? We don’t know. Sometimes we become too tired with barely any will left to keep going, and end up behind doors that we find on the way.

To me, home is not a place, it is a destination; a state of being. We’re only truly home when we’re at peace with ourselves, where everything feels right and nothing else can and would matter, and where we feel truly safe and satisfied, to the extent that death is all that’s left to face. And death is the best reassurance for us to know that we’re home.

Edit: Now that I think about it I have a twisted view on what home is. Mm.

Blah idk what got into me I just typed like a mad man.

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