Point me home

There will be that one moment in life where one will feel utterly lost – and I don’t mean physically. I meant lost in the sense where one does not know what one should do, where one should go, how one should live. I meant that feeling where one feels dejected, rejected and confused. A bewildering mix of emotions and senses, a feeling of having no ground and not knowing where to go.


Well, a rug I’ve been grounded on was recently pulled away from under me. Very strongly and very suddenly.

I was caught unawares.


That shocking moment when one feels the cold, bare floor.

The crack echoing in a suddenly empty home.

A sudden moment of realisation and clarity. Of raw heartache.

A flash of pain. A desperate dose of anaesthetic.

A sudden plunge into an unknown road. And no directions.

Just simply, lost.


I’m still there, in the dark, somewhere. I’ve stalled even before the first speed bump, and unfortunately, I know there will be many more speed bumps ahead before this road ends. And as always, who knows what would fall out after each jolt of the hard road, what new sores and bruises I’d get.


What I do know however, is that no matter how hard you hurt, you have to keep driving. Because really, you’d never get there if you stop to mourn every time you hit a speed bump. No, you make new memories and begin a new journey on a different road. This time heading somewhere safe and warm, a welcoming home.


And perhaps one day again, I will also find a better, more secure rug where I’d feel safe again.


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