Endless sadness is what I’ve felt every time I traveled back home and after staying a couple of days I left by the afternoon train. It took me years to come to terms with the fact that I’ll never go back for real, that I’ve become a visitor. Even having been enmeshed in a family dynamics that drove me to repress and recoil I wanted to go on playing that ‘familiar’ game. But I ain’t my parents’ little boy nor that silent but deep guy in school any more. The life I have been moving towards was a mirage and the return (to home) I’ve been subconsciously preparing for was based on idealized images of the past in my head. The story I’ve been caught up in unfolding revolved around a phantom. Now, here I stand, nowhere, put on the spot, free. Reality is open-ended. Life is a game. Love is the name of it.

The moment we let go is the moment we (re)turn to where we belong.


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