the day i stopped searching for home

 

 Life is pretty much a hard-to-follow scenario. A sequence of events, and if you look from a far upper perspective, you’ll catch some sort of synchronization that exists in the flow of events. People who vibe usually stick together, some people’s hearts belong dearly to a particular place, and the list goes on. People find a way to connect with something, to let something blend into their souls and leave its fingerprint for eternity on their hearts.

 Yet I’ve always doubted the existence of any ‘links’, particularly when it comes to my own life. My connection with anything always feels euphorically fleeting. A sound at the back of my head will always keep me alert, telling me that the warm feeling of home that started to flow in my veins will soon freeze and collapse. It's as if my own share of earth’s sync isn’t enough —it’s meant to be short-lived.

 Synchronization is complex. There are no rules or formulae –it simply resides there, but sometimes it seems so unreachable and hidden; you know for sure that it must be there, you sense its presence, but you could never actually hold it.

 I wonder if the tension between finding the divine gift of synchronization and me is a result of my fears: my fear of loss, of rejection… Sometimes, it feels better to run away instead of recklessly diving and struggling for air.

 I wish sync and harmony could naturally flow into my life, but flowing is so foreign. I’ve been always told to relax and go with the flow –but the flow seemed so turbulent to me, while it seemed so calm to everyone else.

 However, after lots of profound thinking, I’ve reached a quite satisfying conclusion.

 Our life, which is concurrent with the boundless universe, is overflowing with endless probabilities –why do I have to believe that I’ve run out of chances? We aren’t in a marathon. We don’t have a deadline for achieving happiness or finding our missing jigsaw piece.

 So, I could do nothing but wait for whatever clicks with my soul, whatever feels so perfect and comfortable, with no doubtful voice in my head or heavy pretending, and my only solace within waiting is my firm belief that the odds are unpredictable, spontaneous and infinite. This is probably what makes our sources of harmony so cherished and fascinating; they are solely yours among trillions of other probabilities.

 Your peace is worth being looked after, and that’s why you shouldn’t twist your soul in order to fit into a so-called harmonious home. It’s not your place if you have to rip your soul apart.