expletive, prose, writing

Returning home.

This is an extract from a story called “Scars”.

I should probably address this here, as I am not one – anymore – who goes on living with negativity around. To tell you the truth it took some time to dawn on me but I am glad it eventually did, and the fact is that I have been really crossed as of late, and it has affected me in many ways. I have been crossed because, let’s face it, the return that I had planned was not that great – to say the least. And I should have known better, that is probably on me. Wait no, is it really ?

I went back “home” without warning a damn person, just for the sake of a great surprise because, as much as I didn’t want to go back, I missed some of the people in my life. I always stop when I write this kind of sentence : I remember when I learned English, teachers would tell me that “some” was always sort of connoting a lack of specifity related to whatever you are talking about. But in that case, it is just the opposite, as I’m talking about the most specific type of people you could find. I often think of this expression, “Kith and Kin” : my friends look out for me like family; that should probably tell you what kind of people I am talking about. But sorry, I digressed yet again. The very first thing everyone did was to tell me how different I was. “Oh you really have slimmed down”, “oh you look really tired, you should eat something”, “wow, you’ve lost a lot of weight haven’t ya?” Well yes, maybe I have, maybe I have not. Maybe I’m tired because I have been spending hours in airports to get here. But who [expletive] cares about my [expletive] weight or my looks anyway ? I am the [expletive] happiest I have ever been in I don’t know how many years. Can’t you just tell me it is good to see me, that you actually are surprised, or that you missed me ?

What struck me the most is that during this trip back – a trip I eventually shortened – all I have heard was about me being different. Nobody actually really took time to ask me how I was. Because you see, most people see you, and they just assume. [Expletive] appearances. And what bothers me most is to realize how much everyone around me was critical, just because of the way they remembered me. That made me unhappy. That actually made me be closer to who they remembered I was. Now is probably the moment when I should tell you what I was like. I’m not really sure that ready for that, in the sense where, aside from “thoughtless”, “awful”, and “selfish”, I don’t feel I could use many words. A long story short, I spent a very [expletive] long time being depressed, and though I never really gave a thought to it, I’m quite sure now that I might have been suffering from something close to dysthymia. There were reasons for that but now is not really the time to expand on those. What I want to take out of all of this is that my situation, I thought, justified my attitude and my behaviours. I felt like the universe owed me more than one. It really is a weird state of mind now that I come to think about it. Have you ever felt that way ?

I eventually ended up realizing how much all of this was troubling me; 3 days back there and I was already [expletive] agitated, I wasn’t able to sleep anymore, I was having dreams worst than the usual nightmares, and I lost all my motivation and started brooding again. Everything that I feared was now happening, and I knew there was only one thing to do. God, it sounds terrible, but it is what it is : when I left the first time, I realized how much of a vicious circle I was living into. Not that I was acquainted with the wrong people or anything, but there definitely something unhealthy about the way I lived. When I opened my eyes on this, my main fear became that I would fall into the same trap, were I to go back at some point. So I left again. And if you boil it down to the essence of it, it is very simple : I was unhappy, I [expletive] made myself happy, I left. But, it is just weird to realize that it has to be that way; to be that hard. […]


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