the longer i am away from this place, the stranger it becomes to be not doing something or rather not knowing what to do. i seem to have a 1001 responsibilities to fulfill coming back but i’ve never (ok hyperbole) been more anxious about thinking where to start. maybe that’s what they call jet lagged. you seem to be awake at the witching hour but in reality you know it’s because logically (according to the bio-clock) you’ve just taken a nap. only you’re at the wrong place at the wrong time to be taking a nap, especially when i’m not much of a nap taker. well not since after jc/high-school. there is something very nap-inducing when one has to wake up before the crack of dawn everyday so that one can go from the east to the west before 7.20am.
beyond crazy self-denying thoughts, there is a very realistic side that knows that when you spend the better half or most of the year away, you’ll come back to (at times) literally different people trapped in the same packages. not different in a bad way, but it’s just that nobody stops living their lives when you’re away (like i haven’t neither). so there is a huge gap to catch up on. this happens to then become a case of the mind/heart is willing but the flesh is weak.
the part i don’t and do get at the same time is – the anxiety over anxiety. for some reason, it’s fine when you’re a stranger in a once was/truly strange land but not where it’s the motherland. i mean, haven’t you spent enough time growing in/up/out of it to have an idea of how best to occupy oneself? or maybe for once i just don’t get why i’m not that excited to be back.
