My identity, is in my home. That’s where I belong. That’s where even when judged, I know for sure the reason why. That’s where I can walk, naked and shameless. That’s where I can cry, and not give the reason why. That’s where my laughter is significant. And my voice is heard, modified, directed, redirected, and made to attach to the future.

The attachment I found here is not comparable to any. No exchange can measure, or replace the joy and comfort I found here. And for that reason I keep searching here even when hope is seemingly gone.

Home is what any of us yearns for. Daily. That place has no measure. Where hands that embrace you are always wide open. That place where you go to when you down. And even when you don’t arise from that down level, you’ve got a place to be. Just being there. Doing nothing. Not being asked why you be there. Where you can leave at your will. And on a lucky day, someone might note how down-stroked you be. And lift you up with his words of hope. Or even trod you more. For love or for hate. It’s a place worth out measure.

And now for those who loose that place. What a fateful place do they fall into. I sense the struggle they encounter. Day in day out. Reconciling the feeling of wanting to be, and not being appreciated. Hoe doesn’t loose the sense of where I want to be. But it does get invaded by strangers. Who know not a thing about you. And the comfort of your home. When they take over, you can only witness them enjoy that which you yearn for. They take you miles back to the things you once enjoyed. There’s no pain that measures delight that can’t be embraced in the present.

You go out at times not because you want. But because life is not simple. And it’s simple at times. The mixture of the two makes it complicated. Life stands at the middle of simple and no simple. When the two meet, when that which was once impersonal becomes personal, the meaning we once had is shifted. That shift is greater than enaything those near you can fathom.

But you do keep hoping and craving for the home. You might embark on a journey to find a home. With those who feels like you. Those who think like you do. The first encounter feels like you found a home indeed. But as you walk, new sense of who you are comes along. The pleasures of today might be fulfilled. Since the gathering in your new home is necessitated by the now need. But they reconcile not with the points of the past. If they don’t, conflict between that which is you and that which was you and that which connects you with the new home creates new platforms to find.

That we keep finding. That the search rages on after getting a place where our present needs are met. Necessitates careful thought about home. More specifically from those who don’t feel the need fro the home. For those with issues that classify as tough. They know the need for a home. But for those who don’t have thought times, the need to stand in huge place of the other. The place of those who feels different from us. That is where perfect creation of home could be found.

Then I came across on Facebook what seemed to summarise it all:- home is where tears are cried freely, and where laughter is shared heartily.