Home is Where the Heart Is

A Story by Taylor R.

They say home is where the heart is, but what if I don't know where mine belongs?

They say home is where the heart is but, what if the heart doesn’t know?

I live in the city of Detroit, about an hour away from my childhood home in Waterford where my family lives still. These two places are drastically different, not only culturally, but in a personal aspect to myself.

I wake up in my apartment here in the city, ready to start a new day whether its classes, meetings, events, or socialization. With all those things, comes great stress to which many people truly don’t understand. But, the things that cause me the most stress, are my very own friends here at my university. Sure, everything seems great, knowing a ton of people on campus, having parties and events to go to and much more but, I simply would rather be home.

Home would be back in my smaller town an hour away, with my family, and my one friend that remains there. I am not sure why that is. Maybe its all the attention I receive here, all the busyness and chaos of what the plans are for the night, or simply all the superficial people, and how I can’t handle it often or well.

There is always a constant feeling of emptiness here, a feeling of being alone even when surrounded by people who may or may not care, I don’t know why I feel this way, but I’d rather be home.

So as usual, if I haven’t returned home in a while, I call my dad, and he picks me up after work. The ride home almost feels as if I’m escaping from a creeping darkness of being in the city. It feels as if its my chance to temporarily leave what’s there behind. And I like it. I feel better, until I get home.

Upon arrival as usual, I jump out of the car, into my house, and call for my cat who excitedly runs to me. I do some laundry, take a shower, maybe get a snack and catch up on the Walking Dead. Things are calm the first night back, and it feels better to be home and isolated from friends who are always out doing things such as going to the bar, the frat house, or hanging out. I like to be alone, in my own home.

I wake up in my room I’ve had since I was a baby which is now empty as everything is in my apartment in Detroit, and I realize that I have nothing to do except maybe go roller-skating, get lunch with my grandma who is one of the closest people to me, and maybe hangout with my one friend who I said is still in Waterford. As these days pursue, and the weekend home comes to an end, I find myself wanting to go back to Detroit, back to my university, and back to my apartment.

What makes this whole thing the hardest is that I realize that as soon as I get from one living location to another, my heart doesn’t belong to either, and I end up still just being alone. My heart has no home, as I think neither can actually be home anymore. Its all a matter of escaping, and trying to see if I can still fit in at my childhood home, which I don’t, or dealing with being away and on my own at my university. If they say home is where the heart is, then where does my heart belong?