We all have our own obsession, but never had I ever thought this would be mine.
When I was a child home was the house that shielded me from the storms. The roof where I found refuge and growth. Home was warm cooked meal made by mum and Dad's hugs.
Before even I realized home was suddenly within the walls of the school. Where I was free to embrace the different colours of my soul that I never could before. Where hours spent with friends became the highlight of my days. Now that I think about it, it was in this home that I found myself.
At some point home became the worlds I discovered hidden in books. The peace I found as I scribbled away. Home was the magic of bringing stories to life. Somehow during this time I felt I was more alive.
Eventually home became the campus that I was told would take me where I am meant to be. The halls that dragged and drained me whilst I fought to find more of myself. Home was the neon lights and music that kept on my feet.
Now home is everywhere and nowhere. I am desperate for the feeling of home, the one that I can't seem to reach anymore but sometimes get a glimpse of.
I understand what it feel like to battle addiction, craving the high that will take away the emptiness. Searching for home is my addiction.
The only time I even get close to the familiar feeling of it is when I'm on the road. Leaving behind something in search of another. The thought of adventure keeping me on edge but I can't keep searching for the rest of my life. I can't keep moving.
Home is neither a feeling nor a place and yet somehow, even as in it's own twisted way it's both.


© @NatalieChilikwela