Sometimes I feel I don’t belong anywhere. I have an innate reluctance to settle. I don’t really identify with the nationality printed on my passport. I don’t even really identify with my own name. All of these tags are merely ways for me to live and function in this world. I don’t oppose doing duties carrying these tags, but whenever I need a break, I always step back into my own mental space where I have no fixed identities.
Everything has an end
Everything has an end. When the time comes, you have to let it go. If you try holding on to it, it will be distorted and turn ugly. So you’d better let it go when it still has a soul. If you want to keep it, keep it in your memory.
Everything moves, nothing remains the same. When it wants to change its shape, you’d better let it be, or else it will become bitter and cynical.
Coming home
The word home has a slight dissonance when it’s applied to any physical location. I feel at home when I’m in my mental world. Sometimes, after a long journey, the moment of sobriety gives me a feeling of opening the home door and being like, “Phew, I’m back home!”
It also feels like when you dive deep into the water for a prolonged period. But the moment you lift your head above the water—the moment you can breathe again. That’s what coming home feels like to me.
Airport
The airport is my favorite place. It’s on the edge of two realms. It doesn’t try to hold on to anyone or beg them to stay. It does not cling. It simply celebrates departures and welcomes new landings. Anything beyond it, it doesn’t care. You can freely move on with your own journey without guilt or shame. The airport doesn’t involve itself in anyone’s karma. But it is always there when you’re ready to set off to a new place.
Leave a Reply