Fishing with the clan at the small creek behind our house. Mom and Dad already exhausted and somehwere beneath the trees.
When you’re 23 and living it you would usually have three strings that are tied to your waist and pulling you from different directions; work, social events and relationship drama. And at these moments when everything gets a little too much that you feel overwhelmed and start eating ice cream from the tub, you’ll stop yourself short and begin to think, ‘how the hell did I end up here?’
I say a quick fix would be to eat good food with a really good friend, but if you’re looking for an even better luxury, you should go – and no, I’m not about to say go for a holiday in the Capri Islands – home. ‘Home’, is probably the second best word after ‘love’. Sometimes life seems to grab you by the hair and drag you along everywhere, but all you should always do is just get up, dust yourself, and just go home.
Home might mean differently to other people. For some it might mean going to a loved partner, going to a loved mall, or even going back to your singleton apartment with a pet. But for me home is 250 km away from Kuala Lumpur where my parents live. Where before it all began, it was just me, Mom and Dad and my three other siblings. I define ‘home’ as a place that never changes even when the world does.
Never mind the fact that some of us don’t get along with their parents, some of us only have single parents or some of us only have brother and sisters left to remember their parents by. But the blissful truth is that your family – they were the ones who love you first even before anyone else had the chance to fall in love with you. It’s funny how in your present life you spend so much time running around the city trying to make a boy fall in love with you, or trying to impress friends, and you forget that you have a string of people who already loves you on the first day you arrived into the world.
So everything screws up, and things are piling up in load of shit, just go back. Go back home.