the ephemeral

I’d like to start a new life with no one from history

I don’t want to go home

“The fact that whatever we were searching for wasn’t in the place we left. Whatever the reason, we’re not there anymore, and we’re here now. Often, we’re here alone.”

http://thoughtcatalog.com/2012/i-dont-want-to-go-home/

-

Whatever I was searching for in Singapore, I couldn’t find. Whoever I was in Singapore, isn’t really me. I’m not coming home for as long as I can.

bigger than one city

Beyond a doubt, I feel torn between the there and now; two identities, wholly separate, but so intertwined. I can’t see myself going back, not at all; I feel like I belong here, or anywhere else, for that matter.

I have always basked in the unfamiliar, the places unknown, the streets that unbound before me.

I can’t live within the confines of the city I grew up, I can’t bring myself to go home, that’s why I won’t, not this break, not for a while. I don’t miss it, I don’t miss home.

I am an entirely different person here, I feel comfortable, I feel free, I feel strangely liberated from everything and everyone; but history, and people, and situations, have a way of turning and twisting themselves till you no longer recognise the state of life as it is, and as it was.

I feel like this was always meant to be, somehow. Failure led me here, and as much as this is a possible mental compensation for my failures, I believe in it. I don’t know what time will do to me, nor my life, but I know I am no longer who I was.

Every day since you left has changed me, every month a different adventure, every year that passes, a different strand of me shows itself.

I am a stranger to myself. And I am oh so comfortable in the knowledge that I do not know what I believe in, nor what I would like to believe in, I feel like finally the torrent of youth and puberty has finally faded, that my younger, naive self has found its way back to the surface.

A childlike innocence of wonder at the world; a rejection of things known, an embracing of the darker world out there.

Perhaps this is youth.

-

And for just a while, I feel no attachment to anyone, nor to anything, to no country or nationality, to nothing in particular.

At the end of the day, we are individual beings. Alone. In a statistical sea of many.

-

But what strikes me as most puzzling, is how utterly fine I am with that.

That being alone can be so liberating, so weirdly and strangely satisfying.

-

(what is it we’re really tired of anyway)