I went to my home country last week. And I hadn’t been home in almost two years.
Going home was both a blessing and a curse. I’ve been living in misery here for so long that I got used to it – life seemed normal, life seemed nice, life seemed adequate. But knowing “the good life”, I realised how bad life is – yes, from outside, it seems as if everything’s peachy – I can see Big Ben and the Shard from my window, I live in “the City” (or close enough), I have a wonderful job in London – so what more could I want in life?
Well, not to be lonely to be honest. Loneliness is such a cruel place, and it gets to you, no matter how strong (or in denial) you are.
“I was never fond of fare-thee-wells/Long goodbyes and time-will-tells” (Jeff Daniels, “Holy Hotel”) – it’s probably one of the reasons I stayed away for so long. That, and fear.
When I saw my friends for the first time in two years, I was so afraid – so afraid I’d lost them completely. Yes, we still talk on the phone, or send whatsapp messages or snaps, but it’s different talking online from chatting in person. Especially after so long – I wasn’t sure if we were holding on to an old, stale friendship. I’ve lost many friendships while we lived in the same city – and no one’s at fault. These things happen, this is the essence of life. We’re always changing, always evolving, never staying the same.
But at a friend’s gathering before I left for London, I realised that I was surrounded by the people I love most in life. I can’t believe how lucky I am to know so many amazing, beautiful, kind, creative, perfect people.
So that’s why I’m torn. Torn between two countries. Torn between two lives. Because I could have an amazing life back home. But then I really think about the flaws of the country and realise that I couldn’t lead a truly happy life there. But it’s really hard for me to figure out exactly what I want, when I am not in tune with my feelings, I can’t accept them, I can’t think about them, I can’t talk about them.
But the hardest thing is letting go of love. It’s time – I know it is. My soul’s been trying to give up for so long – but what do you do when you were first and foremost best friends? How do you keep one feeling without the other? Without letting go completely? Especially when this keeps me going. Regardless of distance. Regardless of how much (or little) we talk to and see each other. Regardless of the uncertainty.
But, after so many years of denial, drifting and lies, I need to take life in my own hands and figure stuff out.
Maybe next week.