When i was little i had very less affection for home and my family. I was more into school and friends. I was social, confident, people liked me. My teachers were so proud of me. I never thought school would end and i will have a college. I thought my soul was imbibed in its red bricks. My school was my identity. I didnt like spending time at home. I always fancied the idea of hostels and moving out to study. Having a new surrounding. I was too naive to know it was more fatal than fairytale.
Being in another country tears you all the time into pieces which you cant gather. Every time i come back to hostel, its a heart wrenching journey i make. I miss my home. I miss the warmth of my mother. I miss her kisses, her hugs, her random surprises. I miss the way she would ask me all the time what i wanted to eat because here neither do i have many options and nor do i find the available ones appetising. Its bad! They made me take someone as a roommate whom i dont like at all. And the friends i got here? They never stood up for me. Infact all these three years they had no gesture of care for me. I lately realised all the friends, the real ones, are back home. And i miss them too. I miss how true and loyal they were to me. Always cheering in silent tones “we are here for you”
Sometimes i am left wondering why i ever wanted to leave home for home is the only place that heals. Maybe becoming a doctor is very prestigious but this journey has been hell for me. All the honour that will ever come has already given me scars that wont heal. I cant trust people now. I mean it. When someone is nice to me i start thinking what is it that they want from me?
I dont know how many can relate to me and how many find it irrational but i am suffering here all the time!