When sadness overwhelms me, I turn to melancholic music. The song "Come Back Home" is one of those pieces for me. It continually reminisces about the concept of home. The singer, in turn, consistently urges us to return home. It's a state where I find myself unable to confirm or deny the existence of this ambiguous "home." However, this doesn't mean I perceive myself as a wanderer. I chose to leave home voluntarily. It wasn't for travel, nor was it driven by some grand ambition to depart from my homeland. I simply desired to depart. Yet, this doesn't imply that I don't yearn for a spiritual home. Perhaps it involves forming connections where emotional bonds can flourish. Nevertheless, even that becomes wearisome. Alternatively, it could be something I'm reluctant to acknowledge – the need for companionship or the feeling of loneliness. The notion of home is paradoxical. There's never a definite place to return to, and even if there were, I may not desire to go back. However, I feel compelled to return home, though I'm uncertain of its whereabouts. I merely crave the constancy of a stable daily existence within my inner realm. However, attributing meaning to existence inundates me with myriad thoughts, and I feel too ordinary to ascribe significance to my own life. The more I ponder, the more suspicion creeps in. I find this state disagreeable and draining. Embracing a situation before evading it proves to be the most gratifying, while reminiscing about it when it's beyond recall brings solace. In a state of uncertainty regarding my desires, I refrain from pursuing anything, thereby becoming increasingly ordinary. Or perhaps it's all an illusion. If given the chance to return, I might decline, for we perpetually inhabit a realm of fantasy. Alternatively, I may retreat to the wilderness. Consequently, I find myself drifting farther away from the concept of home.