For years I had been made to think that homesickness is a form of weakness. I had been ashamed by my friend's scoffing on the frequency of our homecomings, humiliated by her friend's casual joke for home missers to grow up, and today, another harsh comment on Facebook hit me hard on the face. To quote its exact words, it says run home and hide under your mother's hairy armpits. While this comment was never new to me, this was the first time it was being directed right to my face. I felt an intense burning to my cheeks the moment they hit my eyes, which I realised a few seconds later, was not out of shame, but of anger. And I thought, screw the comment. Screw all of those self-righteous, stone-hearted, I-don't-miss-home-I-'m-so-tough hypocrites. You want to think that being all alone out in the world, miles away from home simply translated to you being oh-so-independent and grown up and ready to take on the world, fine, I'm not the one to contradict you. But I'm not going to feel ashamed of my feelings anymore. I'll not be afraid to admit about my homesickness any time of the day. I'm not going to look for a private spot to cry into the phone, or IMing or text messaging my family to tell them that I miss them instead of saying it out loud through Skype. You want to laugh at me? Go ahead. Because FYI, I think all of you are pathetic, because while you're so busy trying to be somebody in this world, you started forgetting who you already are.
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