Many nights of heart-wrenching anxiety and panic attacks later, I'm done with my foundation year. The crippling feeling of doubt and groundless worry that constantly crept its way into many dark winter nights. My first year abroad was a synthesis of happiness, growth and depression at all extremes. It was a maddening time, for many months I ruminated with feelings and people that I should never have invested myself in. At some point I battled with the confusing possibility that I was turning into a masochist, because even during the best of the worst, the seeds of the social blight just seemed to root itself further and further into my soul. It was a leech. To a certain extent, we have a choice of what we hurt over. I had a choice and unconsciously (or maybe otherwise), that's what I chose. Again I levitate towards things I can, or think I can control. I can't decipher this strange and strong need for so much control. Is it who I am, or is it some kind of monster in the making?
Most times it's not hard to know for yourself. As clouded as we think we are, somewhere at the back of our minds it is always clear. And yet, so easily we still pursue whatever belief we tell ourselves with so much conviction that there are no questions why. But why do we hang on so tightly to that stake (especially) in somebody else's doings? It was like breathing underwater for months, and then I finally asked myself, why did you let yourself hurt like that?
Pushing the above aside, I'm back home now. I know I'm home when the humidity strikes like a lightsaber waiting to slash me into bits. Upon arrival I've thrown myself into the grind of back-to-back appointments, a summer internship, lunch meetings, wisdom teeth extraction surgery and an unanticipated one-off yoga fling thing at the departure hall of our airport on a Sunday morning.
In these days of my post-surgery MC, I've taken the liberty to sloth around at home. And in this unproductive period I've come to realise that I am inwardly drawn to people with strong characters and sense of being. And when these said people have an overwhelmingly destructible 'knock-over' kind of enthusiasm, I reel them in even more. It feels like so because it seems like I'm that kind of person too. I am hard to convince and more often than not my 'resting bitch face' doesn't do anything to my lack-of-seeming-interest body language. I don't always mean what I show.
Have no idea where this post is going, but it's nice to be back here rambling. Ta for now.