When I was 17 years old. I decided I would go away from home and live independently. My dream at that time of wanting to continue studying on a different island. However, God granted my mother’s prayer to stay in college in a nearby town. Okay, it’s okay. At least I will live alone and completely get out of the house.
When that time comes, I will leave them even if it is only 100 km. I gave up my room for my sister. My pink room and large study table at the corner are my favorite spots to study until 3 AM, accompanied by a glass of coffee and a can of my favorite biscuit. Huh, like going to the farthest place, I muttered.
“I live alone, no one will set my sleeping hours.”
I’m completely free. No one cared about me, no one told me to eat, no one scolded me because I slept late at night. At that time I was really happy because it was the first time I lived alone. But, it was only for a while. A week later I missed them. I cry every night after talking to them on the phone and I always go back home on weekends.
Finally, I got used to it. I enjoy my solitude, I enjoy the fruits of my hard work, I enjoy all the challenges I face. I no longer miss my room. I rarely contact them. I enjoyed my time with my friends. Stay from room to room, go out late at night, and go home in the morning. I didn’t do anything bad, I just enjoyed the freedom I didn’t get before.
Something happened and made me have to go back home for a long time. I’ll pack my stuff back home. Feel the atmosphere of my childhood home again. Feeling the warmth of my family’s smile again. I hope everything will be fine. All the way home I thought about everything. Especially, the condition of my comfortable room after becoming my sister’s room.
I’ve been there, at the door. I slowed down, but I didn’t find anyone there. It was like no one welcomed my presence. The atmosphere feels gloomy, not messy but this house looks different. I entered my room, I put the bag on the bed. Look at the different corners of my room. Messy. I hate that situation.
I don’t talk much to family members. Spend day after day sitting in the study and staring at the layers of my laptop all day. My day went worse. My relationship with my father has not been so good. I saw anger in his eyes. My relationship with my mother was ordinary, but I saw sadness in her eyes. What about my brother? He is very rarely at home, always going to stay at his friend’s house. My little sister? She was so chaotic and annoying.
The longer I became more uncomfortable at home. I miss going out of the house walking anywhere with friends. I’m always looking for excuses so I can quickly get back to my favorite room. I long for solitude and I miss the dark atmosphere of the room and the fan that revolves over my head. This house is already uncomfortable, this house is already very chaotic, this house is not where I go home.
No, I don’t want to leave my parents. I just want to find my most comfortable place. They’re the most comfortable place for me, but this house is no longer the place to be.
