Someone asked me last night if I would be able to survive if I were to go home for good...
I replied without hesitation saying that I would not be able to survive...
But this morning as I woke up and thought about my days here and the things that are happening and the uncertain road that leads on, I really don't have much that I can be certain about. I watched a video I created 2 months back about me going back to Malaysia and I realized that Malaysia has gotten a grip on me in such a way that I cannot explain. By no means that God is asking me to return back home, but it is a sense that I may have left a huge chunk of home unattended for a long time while it was being revived back recently.
There is a sense of uniqueness of home as everyone says, home will always be home. But I cannot find my fit anymore, but neither can I call New York or even America my home too. I feel so adrift yet my mind sets itself to my immediate circumstances, New York City. It is such a scary place to be yet there are people calling out for help and being completely oblivion to the hope of God. Where are they seeking help from? How are they easing their cry? Where are they finding security from?
I must admit to having to enjoy this feeling at times, because it keeps me on my toes and be in constant awareness about my purpose.
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