Glass half empty

Whatever I touch breaks, dissolves, rots. Whatever path I choose is a one of uncertainty. I look at the people around me, their lives seem solid, planned, organised. And when I look at my life, it's a mess.

This week has been a horrible one for me. As a matter of fact, this year has been really shitty. Everything is a struggle. Everything. From the small to the big, nothing has come easy. But then again, it never has for me. For some, life is an easy succession of events. They get most of what they want with ease, while I struggle and fight; kick and claw - only ending up at the finish line with a slight glimmer of what I wanted.

A wish fulfilled is definitely a wonderful experience but a wish half fulfilled is a dark one. You think you're that much closer to what you want but it is forever dangling in front of your eyes, with your hands tied at your back. You think there are ways around it but in reality there really isn't.

One thing after another, at the end of the day I find myself crying and begging to a higher power for something, anything to go my way. Silence is my answer. The next day I get up and it's the same story all over again.

I feel like everything is falling apart, including me. My mind is racing from one thought to another but I can't find a resolution. I keep thinking, what should I do? But as I lay me down to sleep, darkness washes over me.

A restless respite to the neverending problems in my life.

I am homeless

I write about homes for a living. Big ones, small ones and some that are just nice. And as I write through every article, a line crops up every time. It has been abused and used to its limit - home is where the hearth is.

However, as I type those words over and over again. When I stop to think about it, I realise that they are just words on a screen to me. I may write about the warmth, ambiance and a cozy atmosphere of a home but I've only caught glimpses of those moments - because for me, I have no idea where home is.

I spent most of my life in a place I thought was home. Everything around me was so familiar - places and people. I could close my eyes and walk around and know where I was. It was the place where my life grew and took shape. From disappointment to disappointment, swinging myself into a lull in a dark playground, to the happier moments when I walked the streets with a perpetual smile on my face - Portland was the only place I thought I truly knew and could call home.

But now...

I have no idea where I belong. For four years I've been living in my "hometown". To most, an instant feeling of warmth and recognition floods the senses and they can truly say, "it's good to be home."

But somehow, even after four years, I still feel like a stranger in my own land. Although certain places and faces have become familiar over the years, something still feels missing. I still feel out of place.

When I think back to Portland, somehow that didn't seem like home either. I used to get excited at the thought of going back. I could imagine myself relishing every moment, going to all my old haunts.

But now...

Neither of the homes I know of is truly home sweet home. Neither of those places conjures up a feeling of belonging. As I stand in the middle and look to each side, I am hesitant to take a step in either direction and claim it as my own.

Even though I drive around and about, go out, laugh and eat with my loved one and friends, I feel hollow and lost... I think, how nice it would be to be able to truly call a place home.

For now, this is what I know. Home is neither here or there. I'll always be that outsider looking in, even in the place where I was born.

Up, up and up!

A gas station convenience store holds nothing more than the bare essentials. Bags of chips are lined up against the wall, rows of chocolate await the hand of a child, and even the occasional bar of soap and shampoo are meagerly stocked in a corner.

Today, it was a loaf of bread. A middle-aged Chinese woman stood at the cash register. Her face creased, showing signs of either discontent or perplexity - looking back and forth from the cash register's hungry green digits and the woman behind the counter.

"How much is it again?" The Chinese woman asked. Her hand stop in midair, fingers touching the rims of her purse.

With a smile that seemed out of place, the woman behind the counter answered, "The prices have gone up this November."

I stood behind the Chinese woman and wondered why the woman behind the counter was smiling. Was it because it was her job or was she content with a simple loaf of bread costing more than her salary would allow?

It seems like an obvious question. Who would be content about the rising prices? It's not just a loaf of bread - the general cost of goods have risen. From tolls, gas and now even the smaller things in life.

The Chinese woman simple muttered an "oh," and handed over the amount needed. She probably thought it was just a loaf of bread, it won't effect her way of life.

Yes, in the short term. It is just a loaf of bread. But imagine how much more you're spending in a month? Or even a year on a single item. Now add all the other costs you need to go through your daily routine. Are we making enough to sustain a price increase?

I think you know the answer to this question. Instead of just saying "oh" and going about our way. How about we do something about? Voice our your opinion. Don't hide your discontent.

There needs to be a change.