Generally speaking, I don’t have a home in the traditional sense.
Actually, generally speaking I do have a home in the traditional sense, in that I have an apartment that houses all of my things and I have the keys to.
What I don’t have is a home like most of you probably do. One that you grew up in; or at least spent a considerable amount of time in. You have special memories about a certain stair or a rock in the garden, and there are still people in the neighborhood that remember your name. It’s what you think of when you think of “home”.
I, however, grew up in a military family and though I would put down roots wherever I went, I really was too young to understand the concept, or have the ability to, stay in touch with those places. So when I left, though sadly, it was without looking back. Consequently, my parents now live in a house that I don’t know, in a neighborhood I have no memories in, in a town that I can’t get around with. Which, for me, makes it a little depressing to visit.
I used to think that I was just a loner and didn’t like visiting that much, because I would invariably get a little depressed at some point as well as very bored. The bored part I can understand, staying inside all day in a place you don’t know doing basically nothing is at least overly calming if I can spin it optimistically.
Thinking about it this time, though, that’s exactly what a lot of people do with their families and they love it to no end. Which means that either I’m a heartless bastard, or there are other variables at play…and I think I figured out the other variable: this place. I don’t think I really like it here.
I don’t mean the house, the house is nice and I feel comfortable in it. I’m just not an east coast kind of person, I think. It’s always too cold or too humid or too something. The people seem to stare a lot and there’s not a lot of cultural diversity and…the hard to quantify thing that’s really the issue for me: it just doesn’t feel right to me.
I don’t know why.
I’ve lived all over the country and things have felt good enough. I’ve been lonely and depressed in the middle of China, isolated and stressed out, but the places felt fine. I’ve traveled a fair bit around the world and always been ok wherever I went. But for whatever reason, I always feel uneasy here. It’s the color of the sun and the way the hills roll. It’s maybe the stress in the air being so close to the country’s governmental seat. I dunno, but I’m always on edge.
On the other hand, it may just be that it’s so hard for me to relax.