After spending a few months, sometimes even days away from home and you lean your head down, people tend to tell you 'You are just nostalgic. You're missing home.' And that is the kind of the nostalgia that can be healed once you get home and get to eat a proper piece of bread and have a peaceful sleep. But what happens with that time when you get nostalgic all of a sudden, but you are at home in your own living room surrounded with every member that your family counts and you still don't feel full? There is this constant feeling that someone else is missing. The walls that once used to be the shield from the storms of the outside are now breathing cold air straight into your face, right into your soul. You wake up in the middle of the night shivering, freezing to death although the heat in the room has reached its finest. But that coldness is nothing compared to the one you feel when you overhear your parents fighting again, your father blaming your mother for not doing something right, something he should have done but she went and finished it for him. When you can't stand anyone in the house anymore, you can't cope with all of the emptiness that digs small holes into your heart and brain. Small but strong enough to kill you from the inside. And you sit on your bed wrapped up in your favorite blanket, sipping tea from your mug and feel how the nostalgia gets under your skin and you grieve and wish for the emptiness to be filled and the home to feel like home again.