Personal Writings, VII

     I have nightmares when I sleep. And when I don’t have nightmares, I dream I am back in Edinburgh re-living past situations with new people, walking in confusing alleys whose turns I memorised by heart; everything now looks bigger than it always did. I wake up and realize I am not in the place I want to be.

This is pretty true because as I write this, it is 2:43AM and I have been up for the third night in a row. The contributing factors behind this: an ever-increasing wave of insomnia as of late, 5AM construction drilling outside the dorms, and the naturally-expected bother of settling back in this city. This post is long overdue for a while too, its lateness having been exacerbated by the insomnia. Do you know of a cure for insomnia? Do tell, please…

If you’ve read any of my previous posts, you know how much I loved my time in Edinburgh. They were the best five months of my life. I am not just saying that because I am not living them anymore. I loved every second there. Of course there were ups and downs- of the type that I had never experienced before (you kind of get used to the same new challenges when living in one place over a long period of time, I think) which made me become very independent. I had to become independent. I had no other choice. It was the ups and downs which made the whole thing such a human experience. Now, I look back and think.. Was it all a dream? A five-month long dream? Can a dream last for so long? I know it’s not when I look at the polaroid camera which I bought there and when I talk to people who I met there. I have a picture of myself looking seriously at the camera while standing at Sligachan Bridge and grinning in one at Eilean Donan Castle. I remember the exact thought that was running in my head when that photo at the castle was snapped: ‘McDreamy from Grey’s Anatomy was here for Made of Honor! Haha!’ I am standing in front of the set of Winterfell and in another I am covered in white paint from when I was an extra in a zombie movie.

My previous unease about not feeling a feeling of belonging has both increased and decreased. If you are a close friend reading this, you would probably know of my personal struggle with this concept. The unease has increased in the sense that I am no more in the place I want to be. Decreased in that now I know there is a place where I feel comfortable and free. Whether it is within reach, again, is doubtful.

     Let me tell you- it is always the same struggle. Belonging. Loneliness (not of not having friends, I am blessed with a support network of the some of the most caring humans on this planet). Broken-heartedness with life. Fear of death that makes situations lose importance. Home. It gets frustrating, after a while, you know? To always have to fight with the same demons. And how do you fight demons you can’t even see? I know what you might be thinking- what a cliche struggle. Im sorry, I know I seem like I’m fighting a fight that seems very commonplace because everybody talks about it so much on the tv, but it’s really not. If you’ve ever felt lost, you know of that uneasy feeling which swimmingly creeps into you and unravels your worst fears making the likelihood of them occurring feel more true. I am not talking about having a feeling of being lost when at a crossroads, about say, what to do after college graduation or choosing between different jobs. It’s a difficult concept to explain, and Im still trying to understand it myself. But now that we have established what it is not, we are one step closer to determining what it is.

I need support. I needed it in Scotland when the worst wave of loneliness came in my last week there, and I didn’t have it and I couldn’t understand how to get it. Life is unpredictable. The step after Georgetown is unknown. I am not talking about needing support from a person. (It’s better to want than to need…) No, I don’t think that’s what’s needed.. But I don’t know what exactly I do need. Maybe some more Albert Camus and  Maya Angelou?

Where do I go to escape from this seemingly meaningless and absurd world? What do I do with this broken-heartedness with life? It as if these ‘demons’ or horrible creatures have such incredible power, I am forced to confront something for which I have no answer (that of possibly never having a home), a cruel joke is being played on me which I cannot escape, a cloud of confusion which would not cease to follow me. I must believe in something bigger than me, otherwise the powerlessness will eat me alive.

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