England: Phase I

Seated at the couch of acceptance, I share a life with my Uncle & Aunt while the rest of the university lives in Halls of residence, I humbly accept my fate, here on this couch. They are admirable human beings for their persistence, their perseverance, and their balance. life away from home is not withstood with happiness or first world joy, it is a tender acceptance of betterment, even though it may not be. I save half of what it would have cost my folks.

My heart still cries out to the dust, the humidity, the sheer brilliance that chaos instilled in daily life. Home is where you want it to be, this is not the usual rant, it is a silent cause for maturity and through these words I want to grow up, not for anyone else but rather for myself. I began writing to ratify my stance, to make my peace with my own. It may be terribly psychological that I self-reflect everyday as if it were to accentuate my addiction for nostalgia, or rather a measure of myself. I cannot find happiness at ease but laughter i find, I cannot find tranquility but calm i find, I cannot find freedom, but free I am.

instant messaging, one of the boons of 21st century takes me to their lives, the ones who write. she says she climbed a mountain, found peace and understood a book finally. I on the other hand, with the hope of finding something new, lost something so precious that i feel apologetic almost. I want my place, I want my pace. for now, this confused mind of mine is lost in postgraduate qualms of existence.