Categories > Original > Drama
4 months and 3 days since Ive gotten the letter. No one in this town had accepted me so readily. As soon as I read it, it bowled me over with a sense of belonging... and longing. I wanted to pack my bags and leave immediately. Its funny how these intense, sudden feelings make you do the strangest things. Not that I had done strange things at that moment, but as the moments drew on, I found myself doing strange things.
The thought of studying abroad, of a different environment, where people viewed things differently, where people were open to new ideas and philosophies, enticed me like an oasis in a desert. My life in this town so far hasnt been the best one. It didnt consist of lovely memories, and those special, specific things that if removed from my day to day routine, would rip my heart into shreds. There never was, and I doubt there ever will be, if I stay in this place. And I somehow blame myself for it. Ever since I could read, I dreamt of leaving this city and this mindset. I was too forward looking. Everything I did was for the better good of this dream. Selfish, yes. But so selfish that I suffered. I never let myself connect to the people, places or the way of life here. And for that reason, the people that I did somehow end up managing to connect to, out of sheer desperation and loneliness, I treasure with all my heart, which ultimately nullifies all the hard work I thought I did, not connecting myself to this place.
At this point, it only seemed natural that I should pursue my original plan and disconnect myself from these emotional liabilities. I did not want to spend my first few days there mourning over the loss of these few memories and people back here. I guess this would come under the first few strange things I did- I found myself making more phone calls, and meeting more people every day. But that was natural as well. It was perfectly natural to enjoy my last months here, and squeeze out all the memories I could. But did it do me any good? Does this mean, with all these new memories I created in the past few months, that I would just miss this place even more than I did before I got the letter? How could I suddenly bond with something that never truly cared for me all these years that I had been here? Why did it choose to show me now, with a strict deadline nearing every day, all the things I couldve done? The life I could have if I chose to stay here? Its unfair. And thats all that it is.
My suns burning out slowly, and Im spinning out of axis, whirling towards the centre of it, willingly ready to be consumed by the remnants of the once high flying flames. But Im somehow the force that propels me towards my end, the ultimate reason for my current state of affairs. I may admit it here, but my ego would not permit me to admit this in any other conversation that does not involve just myself.
It sometimes happens that a situation is viewed too seriously. Maybe this is one of those situations. Or is it? A complete change in my lifestyle, my friends, heck, even my time zone... It doesnt really seem something one would view lightly. But how many people have been through this situation? Loads, Im guessing. But most people have stable bases here. A single thing they hold onto. And somehow letting go of one single thing seems much easier than letting go of a million bits of broken bits and pieces. It all revolves around one thing: Loss.
Loss is the last drop of water on a journey, the last unfixable word spat at another, an unwilling apology, the last scratch of pen on certified paper. Loss is the late realization of knowledge once possessed. It runs by its own fuel, on its own terms. If it runs on your fuel,
the loss of something is in favour of something else.
No one wants to lose. I certainly dont. I do not want to give into my emotions, to ruin my future by dwelling on the past. One cannot relish peace if there was never war. If these insecurities have to be put to bed, I must find a way out.
Who are these people? These people who keep still keep me here, who create this awareness of loss? They dont know me as much as I dont know them. Yes, we spend a lot of time together. But what goes on in that time? Do they truly care about me? Would they miss me as much as [I fear] I will miss them?
The weather forecast for these past 4 months and 3 days has been cloudy and damp. This is your typical story of the misery that comes with loss. With every item I put into my bag, theres another needle being poked into the already existing mush inside. I have never started here, how am I going to start somewhere completely different? These are the things that burn me alive. I feel like a stone being dropped into the sea; nowhere to go except down.
All I ever wanted was to be accepted. Now I am, and it feels so wrong. It feels so wrong to leave behind this mess that has managed to make a person out of me. Its betrayal in some sense. To my source, to myself, to what has created me. But I have no place to go except away from here. It’s what Ive been striving for all these years, and Ive finally achieved my dream. It seemed such an easy dream to dream all those years ago, and the sacrifices I made towards it seemed insignificant when compared to the dream itself. It seems stupid in some way, though. Almost like if Ferdinand Magellan, after months of travel, saw the first sight of shore and thought, [Do I really want to go back] Or a prisoner going, [Do I really want to go back to the world?]
It scares the shit out of me. It really does. I dont believe that change alone makes you who you are. I made this change. I may doubt myself and question if I chose the right dream and if I made the right decision or not, but the fact of the matter is its too late. There is no way out. I made my bed, and Ive got to lie in it.
But I still feel like Goldilocks.
The thought of studying abroad, of a different environment, where people viewed things differently, where people were open to new ideas and philosophies, enticed me like an oasis in a desert. My life in this town so far hasnt been the best one. It didnt consist of lovely memories, and those special, specific things that if removed from my day to day routine, would rip my heart into shreds. There never was, and I doubt there ever will be, if I stay in this place. And I somehow blame myself for it. Ever since I could read, I dreamt of leaving this city and this mindset. I was too forward looking. Everything I did was for the better good of this dream. Selfish, yes. But so selfish that I suffered. I never let myself connect to the people, places or the way of life here. And for that reason, the people that I did somehow end up managing to connect to, out of sheer desperation and loneliness, I treasure with all my heart, which ultimately nullifies all the hard work I thought I did, not connecting myself to this place.
At this point, it only seemed natural that I should pursue my original plan and disconnect myself from these emotional liabilities. I did not want to spend my first few days there mourning over the loss of these few memories and people back here. I guess this would come under the first few strange things I did- I found myself making more phone calls, and meeting more people every day. But that was natural as well. It was perfectly natural to enjoy my last months here, and squeeze out all the memories I could. But did it do me any good? Does this mean, with all these new memories I created in the past few months, that I would just miss this place even more than I did before I got the letter? How could I suddenly bond with something that never truly cared for me all these years that I had been here? Why did it choose to show me now, with a strict deadline nearing every day, all the things I couldve done? The life I could have if I chose to stay here? Its unfair. And thats all that it is.
My suns burning out slowly, and Im spinning out of axis, whirling towards the centre of it, willingly ready to be consumed by the remnants of the once high flying flames. But Im somehow the force that propels me towards my end, the ultimate reason for my current state of affairs. I may admit it here, but my ego would not permit me to admit this in any other conversation that does not involve just myself.
It sometimes happens that a situation is viewed too seriously. Maybe this is one of those situations. Or is it? A complete change in my lifestyle, my friends, heck, even my time zone... It doesnt really seem something one would view lightly. But how many people have been through this situation? Loads, Im guessing. But most people have stable bases here. A single thing they hold onto. And somehow letting go of one single thing seems much easier than letting go of a million bits of broken bits and pieces. It all revolves around one thing: Loss.
Loss is the last drop of water on a journey, the last unfixable word spat at another, an unwilling apology, the last scratch of pen on certified paper. Loss is the late realization of knowledge once possessed. It runs by its own fuel, on its own terms. If it runs on your fuel,
the loss of something is in favour of something else.
No one wants to lose. I certainly dont. I do not want to give into my emotions, to ruin my future by dwelling on the past. One cannot relish peace if there was never war. If these insecurities have to be put to bed, I must find a way out.
Who are these people? These people who keep still keep me here, who create this awareness of loss? They dont know me as much as I dont know them. Yes, we spend a lot of time together. But what goes on in that time? Do they truly care about me? Would they miss me as much as [I fear] I will miss them?
The weather forecast for these past 4 months and 3 days has been cloudy and damp. This is your typical story of the misery that comes with loss. With every item I put into my bag, theres another needle being poked into the already existing mush inside. I have never started here, how am I going to start somewhere completely different? These are the things that burn me alive. I feel like a stone being dropped into the sea; nowhere to go except down.
All I ever wanted was to be accepted. Now I am, and it feels so wrong. It feels so wrong to leave behind this mess that has managed to make a person out of me. Its betrayal in some sense. To my source, to myself, to what has created me. But I have no place to go except away from here. It’s what Ive been striving for all these years, and Ive finally achieved my dream. It seemed such an easy dream to dream all those years ago, and the sacrifices I made towards it seemed insignificant when compared to the dream itself. It seems stupid in some way, though. Almost like if Ferdinand Magellan, after months of travel, saw the first sight of shore and thought, [Do I really want to go back] Or a prisoner going, [Do I really want to go back to the world?]
It scares the shit out of me. It really does. I dont believe that change alone makes you who you are. I made this change. I may doubt myself and question if I chose the right dream and if I made the right decision or not, but the fact of the matter is its too late. There is no way out. I made my bed, and Ive got to lie in it.
But I still feel like Goldilocks.
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