Why I chose to live, alone?

This is a persistent question which I have encountered often and I think I might as well just lay down the particulars pertaining the same that puts me, my whole sense of being, into a question mark!

Well, I wouldn't say that it has been any easier. I would say, living with someone has never been more easier. So, it's like out of a dire necessity to exist that I live and that too alone.

I wonder if I were a man, would the frequency of such an implication be equal to what I get now? And, I certainly don't think it would be. Where I have grown up, I live, it's a true reality. A woman doesn't live alone if she doesn't have to and if she perchance decides to, those circumstances must justify the test of arguments she puts forth. She has to be guarded, you know, lest she might get into some hush-hush things.

Freedom doesn't come easy. Not to say you'd get its essence just by living alone. No, I don't adhere to the philosophy of finding yourself just by travelling solo per se which has been hitting the charts lately. But, I wouldn't deny it either that doing some out of the blue things won't give you anything except just the thrill part. And, take it from me, the thrill doesn't remain so thrilling when you are constantly into it. Do constant, everyday things thrill you? It would be just boring. You have to be continuously inventive to feel them, don't you? 

Stepping out from the warmth of your long lived comfort, that cozy cushion, that familiar voice to soothe you is very hard, it has always been so. But, sooner or later we realize that to be ourselves we just got to do it. To breathe on your own, to feel that breath filtered out and away from all the bitter-sweet background music has to happen.

I have decided quite early, there was a certain point of time in my life which just echoed to me that 'I need to step out'. This is getting just too much. 

I wouldn't say I was not scared, I was. I wouldn't say either that it was a smooth sail. It wasn't. I wouldn't say that I did not have my share of mistakes and really bad experiences. I had. Now, you might ask what made me stick to it then? Maybe, my desire to be free has outdone all of them. I wanted to make my own mistakes. I wanted to fail once in a while to get back again all by myself. I have become sick of people deciding for me. How should I live? What should my life choices be? What sort of clothes should I wear? What kind of people should I interact with? To answer them has never been my forte.

I would be honest, there are times when I desperately feel the need for someone to hold me. But, at the same time, I do realize that it makes me weak and trust me being called weak is the last thing a woman would want to hear. 

So, now when a woman tells me that she isn't ready to be alone yet. Or, rather that despite all the restrictions (never have any woman told me she has no such restrictions and if she does I would unapologetically say that she is naive, a coward, has never ever won her battles) she wants to chart out her territory at the home she has been given I would say she doesn't even know what a home is. To be more precise, what "her" home is. She is living in the illusion of making someone else's home as her own and in the sweet process she lost it before it loses her.

Here is a strange query : Can you know a home before knowing what it means?

Sometimes being homeless is mandatory to know what it really feels to call someone or something your home. Because it is exclusively yours, you found it and I really would endorse some part of independence if not all do come from that.

Propaganda Slogan: So, here's your chance, take it!  Girls, find your home!