Don’t want to tread the path.

Sometimes you wonder what you are doing with your life.

You work, play, party, roam around and do lots of stuff. But at the end of the day when you head back to the place you call home it feels kind of sad. Its not like “Gonna go home, yay!!!” but more like “Gotta go home, WTF”.

The place kind of sucks compared to all the liveliness of outside world.
Agreed the place you call home has all the amenities you could ever want and it has a cozy bed and a big ass TV but still something doesn't feel right.

You go to “Home” and tread across the hallway on the same path over and over again; taking care not to disturb the dust that has settled over the area you don’t walk over. The chair or the unused table serving as a stand for the unread papers you just pick up every day because you are too lazy to get up in the morning and tell the paper-boy to stop delivering the news paper. The only use of paper is when you get some food items (ordered or carry out) and you are too lazy to wash the dishes. Just pick up some paper, use that as the table cum disposable plate when you are done just throw the whole thing away.

Even though the “Home” you live in has more than one room you don't really remember what to do with or why is the other room present. The primary use of the kitchen is to serve as a place to store the fridge (which of course you cannot put in your bedroom as it generates heat ;) ). And the only time you ever wander into the kitchen is when you need some cold water.

All the appliances you own are present within reaching distances of the bed or at least in the same room so that you can be sure you don't have to leave the room at any time, because the only time you want to go out of the room is when you are going out of “Home”.

Sometimes when you can’t sleep you get up and pick you phone up and thumb through all you contact wondering who you could call up at this hour and have a conversation and not be frowned upon. But the moment the scroll bar of the contact list touches the end you sigh and light up a cigarette and puff your life/time away.

But along comes someone who cares about the place you call “home” and suddenly things start looking bright. You try to go home early because you know that it won’t be just the four walls of the room but someone to talk to as well at the place you call “Home”. There would be food on the table that used to be creaking under the pile of unread and untouched newspapers. Although you would be subjected to torture by being made to watch all kinds of soap operas but you still are a lot happier now.

The only thing sad is the transformation is not permanent and soon it will the loneliness and “confined to the bed times” again.