“Reflections of a Homecoming Traveler”

After years of drifting, of endlessly moving from one place to the next – from bus terminals to train stations, from hostels to hotels – I return home.
Not because I planned to. But because I was tired. Tired of the restless life.
Tired of always chasing something new, something that never stays new for long.

Home – the word suddenly sounds foreign – greets me with clean streets, waste separation, and reliable schedules. Everything feels tidy, organized, structured.
And I, just returned, stand in the middle of it all, still covered in the dust of the world.

The few old friends I still have welcome me warmly, curiously, with a touch of wonder.
“You did it,” they say. They mean breaking out. Searching. Living.
I was their runaway twin, their dream lived out loud – and now I’m back. A little disillusioned, a little changed, but clearly, I’ve come home.

My family welcomes me with open arms. It feels good to be among familiar voices again.
I feel… at home.

For a few days, I enjoy the feeling of having arrived. I meet familiar faces, stroll through well-known streets, sort through old memories.
I find work – nothing grand, but solid. A small apartment. I begin to settle in. In every way.

The routine sets in quietly, almost imperceptibly. And suddenly I realize:
It’s really not that hard to build a “normal life.”

I enjoy this calm. This order. No more endless questions about where, why, what’s next.
It’s wonderful to simply drift through the days: go to work, come home, eat, read or watch TV – without having to constantly think about myself, my goals, my plans.
Just live the everyday life, wait for the end of the month to buy the things that make life a little easier with the money I earned.
A fixed place in the machinery. I enjoy this existence to the fullest.
And at the same time, I marvel that people can live their whole lives like this.
Without direction, without goals – apart from the universal desire for more money, more comfort, more “leave-me-alone-ness.” What a strange word. And yet, it so perfectly captures this collective longing.

I start observing people.
On their way to work. In City Center shopping streets. In supermarkets.
Their faces. Their movements. Their silence.
Everyone seems to be searching for something, and no one quite knows what.
There’s a diffuse dissatisfaction in the air. No one speaks of it, but it’s everywhere.

I try to study this way of living – and at times, I find it admirable:
To see how people don’t have to worry about anything except the next bills, which car to buy next, or whether to take two or three weeks off for the next vacation.
What a pleasant life!

Although – no one seems truly content. Why?
They seem to have everything. Or maybe… not? I wonder how one can own so much – and still feel empty.

As for me, I currently enjoy not having to think about what I should do with my life.
Not having to worry about intellectual growth or long-term goals.
Just satisfy my immediate desires.
It’s easy after a day’s work to switch off and let the media do the thinking for me.
Still, this vague discontent around me won’t let go.
What is this? Where does it come from?
I hear many complaints – direct, indirect, or from people who are not even really affected.
Often they seem strange, disconnected from any real threat to lifestyle or comfort.
They seem to stem from a broader unease about prosperity itself.

I watch the youth. The new generation, being prepared for what we call “the future.”
They live on screens, compare themselves by the second, rush through a life they barely shape themselves.
It’s about money. About careers. About being someone. Individuality is posted – not lived.

I wander through the city, driven by curiosity.
I observe society – young and old are walking through this shopping paradise, coming from work, looking for things they don’t yet own, proudly showing off the latest fashion they bought yesterday.

I see all this – and tell myself:
This doesn’t concern me. I’m just here to build my new life. I’m only a neutral, silent observer.
But that’s not true. Not anymore. Because I catch myself being pulled into this lifestyle – slowly, unknowingly.
I commit to work. – Buy things I don’t really need. – Look forward to a two-week vacation in Spain four months from now – one I’ve surely earned.
I consume thoughts that aren’t mine and fall asleep to streaming shows.

And yes – it’s comfortable. I even enjoy collapsing in front of the TV at night, being passively entertained, having nothing to decide.
The thought of reflecting on my “goals” feels like a relic from a previous life.
It’s enough to wait for the next payday. To treat myself to something.
To reward myself – without knowing what for.

And I feel myself slowly blending in.

A quiet arrival.
And maybe, a slow fading?