Our fear of home and other questions it raises
I went home recently to see my mom, kinda. She had complained and complained about how my indifference translates as hate for her and her home, and what that could mean in a larger context, especially one that involves a round table and a couple of uncles I don’t talk to.
When people ask me about family, I never fail to remind them that i’m that middle-child constantly comfortable with running from what she’d never talk about, if ever the need arises.
Home for me is not even a place, it’s more of something felt. And my sweet and sour relationship with my mom plays a big role towards this ambivalent feeling I have for 'home’. There are moments when I want to disappear forever and never speak to her again, and the next few days I’m totally over it. I just want to go home repentantly and eat whatever it is I am fed.
It used to be worse though, I mean there were days I hated her and her choices and wished she had provided us with more options. During this period, I was grateful for how much white space we had in our family. I could stay in my lane, few meters away from confrontation and loathe everyone in peace.
Maybe this resentment is typical, like the kind of hatred Nigerians have for independent women and children of rich people.
Lol.
Even now, i’m still grateful for that white space, which makes me believe it’s constantly me against the world. It’s like my body is built and fortified for the desolation and misery that comes with chaos, with being denied warmth and love.
It reminds me of The Revenant,the better movie version, isolated in a flea infested world where all I know is repeated survival and the will to hate everyone.
It’s almost infections, like belief defection. Whenever people tell me about cracked lines and strained relationships with family members, the default advice my inner voice gives is
“fvcking cut them off”
Fortunately, it hardly ever gets out. It’s normal though, for your thoughts to be constantly lost when it seems people are always ranting at you to let out steam than really talk about the ish with you.
I’m totally cool with it. I talk better with my mirror.
That said, I like to believe i thrive in hate of the world and everything in it. Losing familial bond and love doesn’t scare me these days. Just believe I’m totally prepared for the worst, or so I think.
This is in light of my getting outed because of my sexuality though.
*my keypad predicted specialty 🤣🤣
Being a homeless waif seems a fantasy. Within the calm, I believe I’m built for self-love not minding how chaotic the outside world feels.
Las las we’d open camps and start renegade fires for those treading the edge.
