Every time I leave my household for some worldly redundant purpose, like receive education, for instance, I cannot help but feel a little remorseful. Not that I feel that for leaving my indoor luxuries, it’s just that I have personified home on a personal level, as a friend.
True, my friends get to see my usual overt baseless behavior. But it’s just home who gets the privilege of watching the real me, live in action. Be it the Green day singing sessions in my underwear, those countless hours spent TV viewing in insufferable positions or times spent in self-grooming: checking out my (soon to come) abs before the mirror. (Would mention more but that would be impossible without censoring this post).
Home bears it all. Well there are times when we honor the personal space pact. Those are time when am studying or attending to my passions while home stands patiently, passively active, I believe, before yet another physical outburst from my side. There are also those times, the bad ones, when our homes just give us our space.
I guess every adult, or even the older generation is a little wackier when alone inside our four walls. Because that is our last resort in most times, big or small. Home sweet home.
follow at facebook.com/shadowdsouza