I'm finally back home.
You know, during Primary school times, we said things like going home after school and blablabla, without knowing what home exactly means. But after going through the torment of stopping by at every town before eventually pulling over in Ipoh, home sounded so close to heart today. The word touched my heart, literally.
For five months I've been living by myself, taking care of every little detail everyday on my own. People come and go, and I was there saying goodbyes time and again till I lost count of how many times I actually said it. At the end of the day when everything was done, I went back up to F6-18, sat on my blue bed, and did what I do best - stone. In a foreign country where the best I can be is only a permanent resident, there's hardly a place called home. There's hardly a place where I can put everything behind my head and gaze into space. There's hardly a time where I don't need to think about tomorrow. There's hardly a time when I'm totally at ease, and let every inch of muscles of mine to freeze where they are, and stop working.
In short, there's hardly a time for my little grey cells to rest.
Home feels good. Every square of the marble floor reminded me of my innocent childhood, where I learnt how to stand on two feet. Every step on the stairs showed me the process of my growing up. Oh and I nearly forgot how I used to peep at people from the stairs when I was young. And the best part of it - they did not know I was there!
You see, everytime I come home, I get all emo about home, home, and home. I just can't help it. You can't expect something sophisticated and technical to come out of a person who just endured a continuous eight hours of mobile imprisonment. Yes, I deem the bus as prison. Where I couldn't go anywhere but to stay in my seat.
This is home, truly, where I always will be.
