On The Run

I looked at my room with nostalgia. It was empty but I still couldn't be sure that I had everything with me.

With 2 suitcases, 6 bags and a rucksack, I should've been pretty certain that I had packed my all and as I took myself to the boat to head across to the Isle of Wight, everything that was with me were all my worldly goods.

When I came back from India in year 12, as well as clinging onto the obsession of becoming a Buddhist, I wanted to be able to live the simple life. When we were out there, our packs were our everything. We carried ourselves on our backs. When my 'retro' mp3 player packed up, I found other ways to entertain the desperate need for music in my head. When showers didn't come easy, I found that wet wipes were ample cleanliness and that my hair didn't look so greasy. And when I was stuck for something to do, I could write a diary, take a walk, look at the stars or cook.

I didn't lack anything. All I ever wanted, I had. And I needed no more.

So when I packed up my room, I knew how horribly materialistic I was. I had already sent one of my friends packing with 2 boxes and a great bin bag of stuff. Then I piled other boxes and bags for my other friend and still I had all the things that I was taking with me.

Everything that I had already signed away, I realised that I didn't miss. I could live without my canvas of a Buddhist figure or my docking station. My desk lamp and my full length mirror. There was so much I didn't need and yet when it was all in my room, I couldn't get rid of it! 

So as I trekked to Isle of Wight helped by numerous staff, I was displaced.

This realisation only recently hit me. 

I'm homeless. 

I have taken my worldly goods from place to place without having somewhere to call my own. I have nothing of mine in Dubai with my parents apart from a hula hoop and a pair of skates. I no longer live at uni. Nor do I live with my Nan, who stores the majority of all my other things - like books and folders. I don't live with my aunties or uncles. I don't have a place of my own. 

I live nowhere. I have no home. 

They say that 'Home is where the heart is' but when my heart is split between England, Dubai and fifty thousand dreams to travel around the world, I'm not even sure where my heart resides. There is no place I would rather be, unless with my family and friends. 

In which case, my home is in their hearts. In such a scenario, I need nothing. Nothing in my hand. Nothing on my back (though I ought to keep my clothes for dignity!). I am homeless, with a heart placed in multiple people. So, whilst it seems I have nowhere, in fact, I am everywhere. Carried along with other people and, of course, travelling around house to house throughout the year!

Homelessness, in this sense, in fact isn't scary. It's not frightening or daunting. It makes me feel like I am free. A bit of a loose canon. I don't have any ties to anything. I can move where I want. And that's something quite remarkable! So long as people will have me up in their house, I could have not 1 home but 10,000!