Wrote this last week somewhere in transit between Barajas airport and Schipol airport, I think.
Sigh. What a beautiful and weird world I am in. I am surrounded by people and I feel alone. I feel like no one speaks my language anymore. It’s been 2 weeks since I left Bombay (of course I go back in 3 more days) and more than a month since I left Singapore (and it feels like an age). I am home sick I think? Being home sick isn’t something that happens to me that often, if at all. Singapore was about as close to home as I could manage. I have friends there and now in some sense, family too. Telling random strangers that I have a boyfriend thousands of miles away has become a chore now. Convincing them that I am doing the right thing separating myself from him intentionally to take up a job I like is becoming an even bigger chore. When you have to explain yourself to every Tom, Dick and Harry, you wonder if you believe it yourself. I don’t wanna talk about him because I am afraid of going on a rant about how crazy I am about him because I fear that this long distance will wear our relationship out and he will leave me and everyone will laugh at me for being the girl who couldn’t stop singing about her awesome relationship. I am paranoid, aren’t I? I hope he doesn’t hate me at some point for walking away from an amazing live-in relationship. The thing is that if I hadn’t, I would regret it and I would always resent myself for not trying something, for not doing something that is so quintessentially me.
still to come, a more cheerful story, some more exhaustion and more updates.