I’m halfway through and I can’t really grasp the reality of it yet. My thoughts are pretty scattered, I can’t really concentrate on anything right now. There’s a lot going on beneath the surface which explains my current predicament, but even despite that, the flow of everything getting old is creeping back. The very reasons I left Boston are starting to re-appear. Things feel like they’re coasting again, and it’s not what I want. On that note, I don’t even know what I want. I have this idea of happiness, but I accept the fact that my whole world seems to change every 2 years. I say 2 instead of 1, because for this last year a single thing has been constantly lingering on my mind. It’s a silent spectre that perpetually haunts me, it makes me sweat every night even though it’s more than just a tad chilly. It burns me, the flames spike to the point where I could be caught frozen and still melt the ice of the glaciers that surround me. It poisons my motivations, makes me question my goals and vision. I don’t have the clear. I don’t have the answers. I don’t see the light at the end of the tunnel. I hope for it, but it’s too dim to see, even in the summer where there’s light everywhere. I escaped the cold, I thought I got away from it. I confronted what I thought was my biggest fear. I thought there would be some ephiphany of relief, but it’s a fleeting moment and it’s gone and nothing has changed. I thought everything would have changed. I thought I’d be able to make explosions, be recognized within myself, acknowledge myself and gain some sort of inner acceptance. I’m jealous, I’m vain, I’m hopeless, I’m lost.
So here I am, the study in study abroad is beginning to pressure me more and more, it’s like a gnat that won’t go away. Despite how this sounds I’m not complaining, I take responsibility for my work and what needs to be done. That doesn’t mean I’m happy doing it or even that I will. It’s more of a statement of an added stressor that contributes to the seeds that turn a dream into something worse. It’s not a nightmare, but it might be indifference… which could be worse I guess. When I got here, everything was amazing, the thrill of being lost in a new city, the joys of meeting new people and seeing new things. It wasn’t euphoric, but it was genuinely great. The aussies are interesting people, smiling faces in a city, something I’m not used to due to my growing up on the east coast. It reminds me a little of the west coast with a bit of a european twang thrown in. Things are starting to feel a little older though. It makes me question what I want to do. Maybe backpack or wwoof, but I feel like my only real desire for that task is false. It’s another fake ideal life that I’m trying to convince myself of. All over, I’m too unsure to say more, we’ll see where we go from here. I have so much more to say, but for now I’m going to leave it at this. Far too ranty and whiny for even me to take in. At some point you just need to get sick of the bitching and crying and grow up I guess. That moment hasn’t hit me yet though….