After a bit longer than a week back home, I find myself thinking
of the famous saying, in this case through Metallica's adaptation of it in
Wherever I may roam. Well, I would like to think myself as an ever-changing,
ever-adapting, unaffected by places or people, free from the worthless
sentimentalities of nostalgia for good times person. I would like to, but I fail to. I
can't. I apparently am not that person.
I've come to that realisation since I left my home to go study
abroad, and despite it not affecting me when I'm away, around new friends doing
fun, interesting, boring, every-day, stuff it first crept up as a feeling from its
shitty hole to bug me in mid to late June. Picture this; First year of uni is
done, I've exceeded my academic expectations but more importantly I've
progressed as a person and I've dug myself out of a hole that was keeping me
from enjoying life. A year of such a psychological importance is at an end,
I've now visited my brother and friends in the UK, I've had a meet with other
friends that I hadn't seen in a long time, and I'm all up and great. Everything
is beyond great, yet something bugs me, something I've recognised as one of the
many demons I carry, much like everyone else does. I've recognised it but as
expected I'm trying to deny its existence, I don't want to acknowledge its
presence, because doing so, means I'll have to deal with it and I'd rather
leave it for a tad later. Combined with the unfamiliar feeling of endless
cloudy skies and showering rain through June, one of such persistence only the
UK can offer, it finally got to me. Give in? Surrender to it? Let it pour my
inner self and accept it? Nope; deny the fuck out of it. I don't want it there,
it's messing me up, and it’s wrinkling my ideal year. Piss off demon, piss off!
Oh but it won't. I The demon knows what it’s doing and almost like
a being with its own intelligence and sense of purpose it carries out its
mission with relentless precision aiming straight to where it hurts more; my
self-doubt. Fucker knows the game.
New picture; I'm in the plane flying back home, just took off and
I'm looking down as the plane gains altitude, listening to music, gazing down
on buildings, cars and people becoming smaller and smaller, I'm soaring back
home. Soaring. I let my guard down for a fraction of a millisecond and the
little demon does the trick, he's past my massive walls of denial, and they
crumble down with the sound of my resigned realisation; I miss home. Fuck.
Wait, wait, wait! That's good, 'cause I'm going back home, for a
full three months. It is fucking amazing that I'm feeling this way, I get to
experience the closure of missing something and finally getting it. Nope. Shut
up logic reasoning, this is feeling we're talking about, you have no power
here! Logic - Feelings 0-1. I miss home, and I'm overwhelmed by feelings of joy
‘cause I'm going home confronted by feelings of disappointment for missing
home. How do I expect to make my whole "study and probably end up living
abroad" thing work if I miss home after just the first year, which was
great as well? What if the year was fucked up? What if the uni was shit, the
people were crap and nothing was great? What then? Well it wasn't so no point
pondering over things that could have been but weren't. Logic - Feelings 1-1.
So I land home. Get the luggage, meet the people that are picking
me up despite the late of the hour and head back home. Have a good night's -or
I should say day's as it's six in the morning- sleep, rest and wake up
refreshed. Meet with friends I haven't seen for too long, get together, talk,
have fun and there it is; I shouldn't be enjoying this as much as I am, 'cause
I shouldn't have been missing this as much as I have been. Logic - Feelings
1-2. Damnit! Let me enjoy this you dick of a demon, go away! Nah uh, here to
stay the little fucker.
And then, emotional revelation, out of fucking nowhere, out of the
deep dark blue there it is; Acceptance. I miss home. So what? I'm supposed to.
It would be stupid to try and deny the nostalgic feelings for home(duh!), it's
where I grew up, where I built my life, where I became the person that took the
decision to leave and find purpose elsewhere, it is part of me as much as my
arms or legs. Feeling homesick is only natural. I'm not rationalizing this, in
this argument logic lost before the argument even started, it had no place
there from the start.
I feel the demon walking away, straight out of myself, peeking
over his shoulder with a grin on its face, taking off his costume, pulling a
halo out of his pocket, placing it over his head and then spreading his wings
and flying away. My demons are my angels as soon as I accept them as part of me.
Little fuckers. Logic - Feelings 1-3, just the way I like it.
