No mercy. Disappointment. Joy. A spark.
All of it, gathered inside of me.
One day I tell myself:
“I am here. This is my future.”
The next day, I’m packing my suitcase and heading home, to Macedonia…
My thoughts wander everywhere, yet I stand still frozen in place…
Not here. Not there.
School. Work. Family.
All packed into one tight ball of responsibilities.
A ball that, with every new emotion, feels like it’s about to explode.
With tears in my eyes I ask myself:
“What am I doing here? Was something really missing from my life in Macedonia?”
Then the day passes.
I sleep.
New emotions.
A moment of silence.
The ball settles.
Everything seems fine… Still, next emotion break. And again – the same.
But there’s something deeper that never fully leaves.
Because in between these two worlds…
I’ve missed birthdays. Weddings. Sunday coffees. Tears at funerals…
I’ve missed people I love becoming different versions of themselves – without me there.
And sometimes, I wonder…
What does it cost to chase a better life when pieces of your heart are scattered across borders?
What truly keeps me here is the life I’m building.
My future is here – I hope.
My family is here, and we’ve sacrificed so much to reach this point, together.
We are creating something new – With effort. With pain. With love.
And still, I say home for my homeland, but… when I go back home, I hear:
“You’re from abroad now, right?”
And when I’m here, again I’m asked:
“Wo häsch du din Huus? Du bisch nöd vo hie, gäll?”
(“Where’s your home? You’re not from here, right?”)
So tell me… Where is my home?
I’m not talking about a location.
Not a city. Not a country.
I’m talking about a feeling.
A space where I’m not temporary.
Where I don’t have to explain who I am.
I’m not a guest , not even in my own memories.
A place where I can be whole,
with all my languages, my losses,
my roots and my wings.
With all the love I carry from the people I had to leave behind.
With every migration.
Every return.
Every goodbye.
I want to stop being torn between two worlds.
I want to be able to say:
“I am here. This is me. And this is enough.”
So, I ask honestly, quietly, loudly:
“Tell me, where is my home?”
♥ If You Feel This Too…
If you’ve ever stood between two countries ,two languages, two lives , and felt like you belong to none…If you’ve ever missed people, moments, yourself…If you’ve ever asked:
“Tell me, where is my home?” this story is for you .
