I'm coming home

My three bunk-mates have quickly evacuated their high-quality pods in camp to expend their leave. I am leave-less and lonely, looking forward to free meals three times per day and a swim or two on a precious sunny day. Of late, my transport expenses have soared, due to the fact that I have been making daily commutes to and fro home, in a bid to escape the monotony which presents itself from 1800 hours to the time when I finally call it a day.

Back as a trainee, I called home everyday and returned home if the nights-off timing allowed it. I relished the opportunity to spend time at the place where I truly believe to be home. It was a refuge from the training.

I have dropped those habits now, though I make more frequent trips back, made possible by my current appointment - when I'm busy, I really can't make space for anything else in a day; when I'm resting, I have a lot of time. But the routine has changed. I step into home not feeling the original sense of euphoria, kick off my shoes and put down my stores. I look around: Dad is sleeping, and Mum sometimes too, on the sofa, and my sister is living her life out in front of the monitor. I greet the people who are awake, take a breather at my desk and write down my expenses for the day. The shower follows, after which I quickly retreat to my room and live the two hours or so in front of my LCD screen. Sometimes there is delicious home-cooked dinner, but it doesn't matter, for I have started to prefer junk food.

Using the better amenities at home has become the reason for going home. The much higher download and upload speeds, the bandwidth that you didn't have to share with anyone else, save for a sibling, and a hot shower. And being away from the prying eyes of nosy neighbours, too, though that transformed into the prying eyes of a mother trying hard to become a part of her children's world.

I've never been much bothered about personal privacy, especially not at home, but for some reason, part of me has recently started crying out for that small space, specially for at home, at least when I'm cooped up in my bedroom. A safe haven for me to accomplish missions and side quests, without anyone asking probing questions about what I've been up to.

And of course, there are the strained relationships that I don't think anyone has noticed. I feel that my normal working-class family is slowly turning dysfunctional. Not in a very serious and lethal manner, but in a way that makes me feel that each of us is no longer assuming the role of a proper family member. The father figure is no longer present to me, and the mother seemed to have been trapped in the past. The sibling follows a dull and certainly unhealthy routine. I myself outgrew the waistline of a pair of trousers I bought more than a year ago. The family takes less pleasure in conversation and are either sleeping or not really saying much.

I catch myself looking forward excessively to gatherings with friends on weekends, just to get away from both camp and home. It is quite distressing, sometimes.