[ Hiraeth: homesickness for a home you can't return to, or one that never was ]
I think people confuse love with longing. I used to think you could love someone and miss them and give yourself comfort in the knowledge of the fact that they felt like home. Home, had never been my body or my house, or even my bed room. Home, had always been that one person.
Like most people, I made the mistake of longing for a place where I belonged wholly, and mistook the comfort I got, for love. But I learnt from my mistakes, and I forgave myself for letting myself go this easily.I didn't mean to make myself fall for someone. I had no idea they would feel like home. But they did.
People, comfort, love- they come together in your life and you are so lost in the confusion of your own loneliness that you confuse one for the other. You can't tell the difference between the warmth of a hug, and the warmth of your bed and blanket. It's easy enough to see why; once you love someone, they start melting into your life. And so, the first sip of your coffee might be the taste of their lips the whole day. Maybe one day, you'll fall asleep, with lemon scented perfume on just one side of your neck. But they leave traces of themselves on you, tattoo your body with parts of them. You are two empty pages, spilling your overflowing ink onto each other in hopes of creating art out of what will remain.
Sometimes, you'll finish each other's sentences like you're both reading from the same script in the grand play of life. Sometimes, you'll read each other's minds, thoughts that are all said and unsaid and you will relish the silence that will rest between you. You will talk without words and noise, and you will talk with more than words sometimes. You will find yourself leaning into each other, making your own separate bubble from the world. The rain will fall around you, but you won't feel the cold; you're holding each other's hands, that warmth is enough to wash away everything else. Some days, you will talk about everything and realise how hopelessly in love you are. And it will be fine, because it doesn't feel bad at all.
Perhaps, this is how love feels. It feels like home. But love, for all it's warmth and familiarity isn't home. People are made of souls and bones, not bricks and stones.
So one day, when you no longer taste them on your morning coffee and the scent of lemons doesn't linger, don't be surprised. When you will run out of things to talk about, and the unsaid words weigh down your tongue; when talking with words won't be enough and saying things without them will be the only anchor, because what you don't say, you feel and you can hide what you feel. You'll start falling out of love, just as hopelessly as you fell into it.
It won't be either of your fault, but you might end up blaming yourself, because even though you don't love them so, you still care and you won't blame them.
You both will say goodbye to each other, and be satisfied with that decision. There will be a lingering sadness, because not that it hurts, but it sure would have been nice to have them with you. And you'll start counting down regrets on your fingers, the first being, standing outside and watching them walk away. Home, that is what they were once. Homes stay where they are. They don't walk away when things don't work out. And that will be your second regret: letting yourself believe and find faith in the thought of them being home for you.
And you will slowly gather your wits, and explain to yourself, that people may build and make homes, but they are not them.
That maybe letting two people in need of shelter balance themselves on each other was not the best way for a comfortable life. It may have been convenient and it may have even been love at one point, but like all things driven by need, it would too, soon evaporate as soon as it was fulfilled. And then comes your third regret: wondering if your need for shelter was greater than your want to love someone. But what's done is done and turning back will be a mistake.
You've had enough of those lately, so maybe turning back isn't the best idea right now.
The last of your thoughts every day, till you forget them or love again, will be of them. You're a traveler now, moving ahead on your journey. Never forgetting where to go but sometimes reminiscing home. But home had walked away from you, and so had you. So, why, this constant nostalgia of what had never been yours? Why are there churning storms in your heart and your mind yelling at you to go back, home? You miss the love, that's why. Feeling alone isn't great.
Maybe if you gave it another shot, maybe, you might still have a chance but how?
You don't even know where you are. You don't know the empty road you're stranded on. You don't have a map, or a location. All you can see is the stretch of concrete in your mind, that goes either ahead or behind. You could walk behind but how far till you get home? Will home even be there when you reach? Or will you keep walking miles and miles till you turn old and wither and die, and find no semblance of a home? You must decide.
You must decide to go on. You will find shelter along this road but only if you step ahead. One foot after the other in the right direction. It won't matter what has happened to home because this journey, with you and your mind, is what is going to stay till you find another home. One that will stay till you die and beyond.
You will be the answer to all the questions you have asked. Your soul will be your light and you will find a home inside yourself too.
