I question myself the importance of people in my life, how much they mean to me and whether or not I care. I can get overly attached to objects but what about living things? When I was a child, I remembered crying over the passing away of a stray cat we fed (despite being afraid of cats back then). What if that was someone I love? Life goes on although a part of me wishes that life would come to a standstill. Sometimes I felt I need my friends more than they need me but sometimes I felt I don’t really care enough about them. I used to have concerns about posting my private thoughts but now I know people won’t even notice or care. I have a rather dysfunctional family, we don’t talk much, we have many disagreements but we love each other. It is the kind of love that tears us apart. I don’t live with my parents because I need my privacy and partly to preserve our relationship. The reason I move out of my birthplace to another country is because anywhere in my country of birth is just not far enough (just another reason I believe I was born in a wrong place). My parents were here to visit recently and this time, it hit me that this might be the last time one of them is going to visit. Would I rather watch you grow old and fragile than never see you again?
I am a wandering soul that is torn between your love and the home my heart yearns. You are a treasure to love but it is a love I may never learn to treasure.