The way it is.
September 21st 2009 14:53
Category: No Category
For 5 months, I’ve been more or less on my own. While I’ve met people, surrounded myself with new faces, it’s still lonely. Most of the people I’ve met are perfectly nice, OK and sometimes fun, but I miss my friends. I want to be with somebody who I can just relax with. The kind of people at home who I feel no need to try and prove myself to.
I go out here; it was the same in Africa, and drink, partly because we all know it’s easier to get along with strangers when you’re drunk and mostly because I enjoy it. But I drink, let my guard down and a start to act like I do with my Australia friends and it usually ends in a new person hating me or a severe name-calling.
Does this mean my friends in Australia put up with me needlessly, or do we just operate on the same wavelength.
This is what compelled me to sit up and write. I’m naked, but not cold, sitting here, I think it’s around two in the morning. My room, here at Conxa’s house is hospitable enough, though it feels sparse. Like I should leave my clothes in my bag, because I won’t be here for long.
And to honest with you, (I don’t know if anybody actually reads this so I’m not sure who I’m being honest to) I want to go home. At first I scoffed at the idea of coming home early. My trip was originally planned as 8 months and I felt like I would be failing myself if I gave in. That was how it felt after a week in Cape Town. I wanted to come home, I hated it, I was all alone and I had nobody to talk to. But I made friends and began to see how beautiful and exciting Cape Town is. I got over the feeling,
Now though, It feels different. I want to come home because I’m not doing the travelling I wanted to do. I don’t have the money. I’m sitting around, going to pubs. Though now I have a job and I’m falling into the same routine I was in Australia. But without my friends. I don’t have the people that I could talk to at home. I feel like I’m just killing time until I go home.
Now its like I’m not doing myself a disservice, it feels more like admitting to myself that this needs to be done.
So now it’s seven months. I’m coming back in December. Early December.
This is why I can’t sleep. I just had the urge to leave right now. Just say, fuck it. I’m going home. And I miss Julia. More than I thought I would.
As much as London is an exciting city to be in. What’s the point if you don’t have anybody to share it with?
Yesterday I was walking across the Millennium Bridge, over the Thames. And as I was halfway across I realised how beautiful the view down the river was at night. And I caught myself thinking, I wish Julia was here with me to enjoy this. I stood for a minute and watched a boat power away. But then reality came swooping back; I put my collar up and kept walking.
In Africa, I felt like I learned something about myself. Like I'd expanded my personality and having seen possibly the most appalling and, I mean it in a good way, simple ways of living, I felt like I could be more honest with myself. It would never get as bad as that. I realised how lucky I am.
But London, especially after that experience, made me realise how little most of these people care for anything like that. It’s sad that it’s like that. London is such a disembodied city. You could traverse the entire city and never get a smile. Everyone talks about how there’s “lots of crazies out these days”, like the streets were infested with mad men just waiting to make some twisted signal such as eye contact, jump up on the tube, masturbate wildly and start their killing spree. I just want to be with someone I can be honest with.
All I’m trying to say is that being here, feeling lonely without anyone close to me is making me feel more detached from the city and its people every day.
The solution? Put my head down, stare pensively at my pint and wait.
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