True Life: I Realized “Home” Isn’t My Home Anymore


During my first year of college I wasn’t used to being away from home or my friends and family so any time I was able to go home I would jump at the chance. It was something that I always looked forward to and would get excited about because I would finally be able to hang out with my friends and family again (and sleep in my own bed).

But as the year ended at I found myself at home for the entire summer with the realization that being home wasn’t as fun as I remember. All of my friends had gotten jobs and had gotten used to their lives without me in it so it became harder to try and hang out with them all. On top of that I had gotten used to my life in another state and being busy so often that coming back to a place where I had barely any responsibilities seemed foreign to me.

I’m only in my second year of college, and my second winter break spent at home, but I can’t help but feel like something’s changed. It wasn’t anything at home that changed, it was something within me that changed. I still love where I’m from and it will always hold a special place in my heart, but I’ve come to terms with the fact that it just isn’t the place I call home anymore. I would often find myself calling New York home instead of California. It wasn’t something I planned, it just started happening naturally.

Luckily that summer I found a job and made a new group of friends in my co-workers so the days passed by a little quicker and I was able to hang out with my other friends at least a few times. Then I went back to school and my busy schedule and everything was back to normal. At least, temporarily. As with every year I went home for break again, but this time I knew something changed.

I love being able to see my family and friends, eat at some of my favorite places and go to some of my favorite locations, but I’m at the point where being here for only a week or two could fulfill my needs. I also love that I have a place to call my permanent house and a bed that’s actually comfortable, but it just doesn’t feel like home anymore. It feels like my childhood, not my future.

As much as I love to call this place my home, I would be lying to myself if I said that I could see myself living here for the rest of my life. I know that I’ll always have a home, memories, friends, and family to come back to, but I also know that if I’m calling somewhere else home, then maybe it’s meant to be that way.

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