Home.

I wonder how long it takes to transform a house into a home. How many cups of coffee need to be made before the smell of the paint goes away? How many socks need to lie around to show that it is more than bricks and paint?

It’s weird but I see so many people around me just waiting to, in rather colloquial terms, get the hell out of their homes. It just makes me wonder, do people seriously think that escaping to another place would make life better? True there are some perks of moving to a different place. But in all that glamour also resides raw sadness. It’s not the kind of sadness that you can cry and get over with. It just lives in you. It inhales your oxygen and exhales your carbon dioxide. It stays. You get over it but that’s not the gist of it.

You know the cliché saying, ‘home is where the heart is’? I wonder how many people leave their hearts behind in hopes of escape. Conformity is dangerous. Change is inevitable. But using change to seek happiness, that is not right. It’s kind of like giving up on something to avoid failure. Why face the darkness when another road is illuminated-be it from the light of the train bringing your doom.

Too many metaphors and not enough points.