I'm all alone at home, my sister's gone for the holidays.
For let's say, reasons unknown to me, the dining room table is in the living room at the moment, and when I turn off all the lights and open the curtains, I see all the street's christmas lights hanging outside my windows, same level and all. And since the table is right here, I've opened said curtains and I'm writing in the midst of angelic white and a nice warm christmas red glow coming in through my windows. Big windows and a big living room... work anti-clockwise for just one person.
I'm so lonely I'm writing a lonely post. I thought, when I decided to come to Corsica, that I wanted to be alone, stupidly, I thought I wanted to feel lonely, alienated and away from the world. Oh I'm alienated alright, I'm away from the world for sure, but my loneliness has multiplied, and now I have to deal with myself all alone, in the middle of a fucking snowy hill. And it's beautiful, but I'm more lonely than I ever thought I could be.
Even if I'm surrounded by the tenths. Imagine a doughnut. With a very, very big hole in the middle.
Loneliness is personal, not circumstantial, I know. For some reason I wanted to know what it felt like to feel lonely in a lonely place. Let me tell you O brothers, it's lonely. How dumb was I, you might wonder. Is there an upside to it?
It's made me think of the people I truly love, I think of them all the time, there's barely a handful of them, but I'm missing them every second of my life here. I breathe them. How sad is that? It's disgusting, I look out my window and I see, not 5 meters away, another old fashioned building with iron clad balconies and wooden doors and windows. All lights off except for good ole Christmas sequences hanging off the buildings. Like I said, beautiful. But man, nothing makes you acknowledge apathy like an abandoned building who people refuse to restore. It's either that or a relentless wish to die untouched.
I've often wondered if I'm a city person or a country person. I love Corsica for reasons I can't explain, I feel absolutely complete here, after my life in China. But whilst I'm here, I'm missing China. I'm a city person who misses the country, and a country persons who needs the city. I'm a tragic tragic bad soap opera. I'm the worst expatriate that's ever walked the earth because I'm debating between countries that aren't even my own. I've forgotten my land and I refuse to return 'home'.
My home is where I choose to be. My home is where I can make my bed and flush my toilet. Can I have two homes so absurdly different to each other? Can I love Corse as much as I love China? What is it that is so fucked up inside of me that I can't decide if I want to die alone or if I want to die in between thousands staring at me?
I have to love myself more to answer my own questions. Otherwise I'm enabling my own misery. It's not Corse, it's not Shanghai, it's not Mexico, it's always been me. Have I realised it? Yes. Have I acted upon it? No. Will I ever? Only time will tell.
For let's say, reasons unknown to me, the dining room table is in the living room at the moment, and when I turn off all the lights and open the curtains, I see all the street's christmas lights hanging outside my windows, same level and all. And since the table is right here, I've opened said curtains and I'm writing in the midst of angelic white and a nice warm christmas red glow coming in through my windows. Big windows and a big living room... work anti-clockwise for just one person.
I'm so lonely I'm writing a lonely post. I thought, when I decided to come to Corsica, that I wanted to be alone, stupidly, I thought I wanted to feel lonely, alienated and away from the world. Oh I'm alienated alright, I'm away from the world for sure, but my loneliness has multiplied, and now I have to deal with myself all alone, in the middle of a fucking snowy hill. And it's beautiful, but I'm more lonely than I ever thought I could be.
Even if I'm surrounded by the tenths. Imagine a doughnut. With a very, very big hole in the middle.
Loneliness is personal, not circumstantial, I know. For some reason I wanted to know what it felt like to feel lonely in a lonely place. Let me tell you O brothers, it's lonely. How dumb was I, you might wonder. Is there an upside to it?
It's made me think of the people I truly love, I think of them all the time, there's barely a handful of them, but I'm missing them every second of my life here. I breathe them. How sad is that? It's disgusting, I look out my window and I see, not 5 meters away, another old fashioned building with iron clad balconies and wooden doors and windows. All lights off except for good ole Christmas sequences hanging off the buildings. Like I said, beautiful. But man, nothing makes you acknowledge apathy like an abandoned building who people refuse to restore. It's either that or a relentless wish to die untouched.
I've often wondered if I'm a city person or a country person. I love Corsica for reasons I can't explain, I feel absolutely complete here, after my life in China. But whilst I'm here, I'm missing China. I'm a city person who misses the country, and a country persons who needs the city. I'm a tragic tragic bad soap opera. I'm the worst expatriate that's ever walked the earth because I'm debating between countries that aren't even my own. I've forgotten my land and I refuse to return 'home'.
My home is where I choose to be. My home is where I can make my bed and flush my toilet. Can I have two homes so absurdly different to each other? Can I love Corse as much as I love China? What is it that is so fucked up inside of me that I can't decide if I want to die alone or if I want to die in between thousands staring at me?
I have to love myself more to answer my own questions. Otherwise I'm enabling my own misery. It's not Corse, it's not Shanghai, it's not Mexico, it's always been me. Have I realised it? Yes. Have I acted upon it? No. Will I ever? Only time will tell.
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