Home.

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Home? Can four walls encompassing few people be called a home? Is it important in defining us? How important is it in shaping us, making us who we are today?

I have been plagued by these questions for some time now.

My story started in Kolkata, capital of  West Bengal, a state in the north east part of India. West Bengal is not that hard to find. It has a rich history which is easily available on Google. I was born and brought up here. All my firsts, starting from learning to talk, learning to stand, learning to write, learning to understand the world and its people, every first started from here. This place, out of thousand other places became the reason for my existence.

How can a place, a place so small compared to the rest of the world, the rest of the universe become so important? The point of this post is to find an answer to that.

When I started thinking about this question, one recurring answer came to mind, my family. This place does have something that no other places in this world has, my family. It is the family that roots me to this place. My brother says "You never give up on your family." Indeed! What I have learnt is that when everything else ends, it is the family that stays. Family never leaves, never judges, never hate. It became the only static in my life.

I believe everything is built on a foundation. A tree will not survive the storm if it did not have strong, firm roots to hold it still. A building will not survive gravity unless it has those iron rods to give it foundation. A relationship will not mature if it did not have the foundation of love, mutual respect and trust. An artist can never dream and create if he does not have the foundation of his imagination. Foundation.

Family gives foundation. The courage to fight the world, to stand up for yourself, to chase your dreams, to learn to feel, to learn to love, to learn to trust, to learn to laugh, to learn to share pain. The basis for your existence becomes the family, the air to give flight to the wild creature buried deep inside your heart. It becomes the roots for one's tree of life to expand and branch out.

It is the family that makes a building made of bricks, a Home.

"I am not okay!"

I am not okay!

Even after all these years, even after shifting places I am chased by my insecurities and pain.

What I could never understand is how my life became like this, so disarray and jumbled. I was a good student in school, with dreams, big dreams that made me who I was. I was a dreamer, a person who in spite of falling down a thousand times, stood up and fixed it. Now... I just give up. I try, I actually try to stand up. But I guess I am just tired. I am tired of getting up each morning and not being the person I used to be, I am tired of being a coward and not pursue my own happiness, I am tired of dreaming things and not chasing after them, above all I am tired of fighting to make something out of each day.

I read this quote somewhere

 "I have this strange feeling that I'm not myself anymore. It's hard to put into words, but I guess it's like I was fast asleep, and someone came, disassembled me, and hurriedly put me back together again. That sort of feeling."

This quote feels like it was written for me. It hits right at home. Because no matter how much I try I cannot, any more be me. That girl, who was so optimistic, so full of life, so inspirational is lost.

The world took her.

I am plagued by how people time and again used me, how people ruthlessly left me, how I always have been a pain in the ass for my parents, how I have always let them down, how I keep letting myself .
My insides are like a burning furnace, with everything engulfing me.

I have no peace left in me. Anymore.