Where is Home?

Where is your home, your place to feel comfortable and in peace? Is it what they say: “home is where your heart is”? I was thinking a lot about this concept recently. I don’t have a real house: no more that one I was growing in, soon neither this lovely apartment at the top of the town. I don’t feel at home anywhere. I feel safe and great in Tamas harms, but it’s not a house, not a place to settle down. My only home now is inside me: I have pictures on the walls of my soul, I have a soft sofa for the sad moments and, as long as I am next to my true love, some warmth from the fireplace of our hearts. So probably, they are right: home is where your heart is. There is no physical building, no rent, no gas and electricity. If all these concepts are true and home is just a way to concretize our feelings, why do I feel like a need a place to call home?
I guess the answer is easy: what makes my home now, my boyfriend and my happiness with him, could disappear in a blink of an eye. In order to have back a part of my life, my family, I have to let my house go. I have to put it on a truck and let it go. Unlikely, I am not ready to lose my first loved home.
My unconscious is showing me the consequences. Few days ago, I made an application form for a job in the Como Lake in Italy: I was thinking it was simply one of my fancy ideas, but now that I think through it, I realise that I picked that place for a reason. As in movies when the true love dies dramatically, the partner find refuge in a peaceful, isolated, nature full filled place. I have the feeling that I picked the lake because I know I will suffer a lot and, as my love and home will be dead, I may need a peaceful refuge to be able to find myself again: to find a new home built on myself and probably for a while with no fireplace.


Men run faster than Time

Time is a constant, it never changes: in an hour there can be 60 minutes only, not one more, not one less. In one day 24 hours only. Time cannot cross speed limits: it’s slow.

Men, on the other hand, can much more. In one day they can born and die, in an hour they can love and hate. Men can run so fast that sometimes neither time can save them.

Thinking about my own experience, I have to admit that I am a runner. I wish I could solve my whole life in less than two months: to figure it out if the man who’s standing by my side is truly the love of my life, to find a way out to make peace with my family, to change my job, to move from the UK, and… why not… to find peace and happiness!

Time tried so many times to call me back to life, to alert me. My own body threaten me so I could listen to the time’s advice: “it’s time to stop and catch up with the time of my life”.

If only I could be able to listen more and run less. The pain I feel inside, that brings me to keep running fast, is nothing else but the consciousness I have that the time of my life is too slow. A lot of people, the closest to my heart, are waiting for me to sort out my life. My boyfriend would like me to decide if I should stay with him or not. My family want me to leave me and find another job possibly back in Italy. My grandparents keep the typical tenderness of who knows life and has been smoothed by it. but even them are hoping for me to go back or at least closer.

The truth is that I would simply stop and let the time showing me the way. But as for God, even my faith in Life is just a little flame that should be a fire instead.

Ready or not, here I come

Ready or not, here I come.
That’s a big truth: it doesn’t matter if you are ready or not, life comes in without knocking the door, asking permission to step in. It doesn’t matter if you are dressed up or emotionally naked, it doesn’t make any change neither if you run away from it; it takes you over. Life comes most of the times as a hurricane and messes all you plans up. I can ensure you that those four letters, this primitive concept as Life is, takes whatever you have as a payment for your mistakes. One of these latest nights I couldn’t sleep at all and I was wondering in my bed until I crashed into my boyfriend. When finally the sun raised up I was still awake and thinking: “why am I so scared of being happy again?” I was next to the love of my life, I was back to health and I had a second chance in life. Suddenly I turn my head to my sleepy boyfriend and I realised it: “whenever I have been happy, Life took the happiness away from me”. But why? Am I a killer, a bad person or a drug dealer? No. Am I an abuser or a dangerous human being? No.
I am simply a young lady that chose her happiness regardless the other’s one. I chose to be free and enjoy deeply what I had without thinking of the consequences or other people feelings. I have been selfish and punished for that. Life took away from me what I loved most and now, even if the pain has gone and the wind made its job blowing away the sense of guilty, I am still in my bed unable to be happy, too scared even to try.
Life doesn’t care about you: life runs and takes what it’s hers. Watch out and be ready then, because if you are not, you will lose other four letters, those ones that everyone looks for in life: l-o-v-e.