Everything is different. And I mean, everything. Except yesterday stirred something inside me, old feelings, and old things. Memories and remains of previous life that I rarely ever let to the surface. Today it seems less like a choice and more like a volcano. Messy outbursts, painful, and unbearable. The struggle to come up for air. I woke up this morning and my entire jaw hurt — I realized I must have been clenching my teeth, clamped shut in a spasm when I slept. I breathe heavy sighs and I have to remind myself of deep breaths and meditative thoughts. None of it comes easily or naturally today.
The thing is, I am disappointed. Because I convinced myself that I made it to the other side, even though I cannot escape the flashbacks, the nostalgia, or the craving for things, which I do not have. It’s all imperfect; life weaved together on the go with or without consideration for tomorrow or what it may bring. I definitely wasn’t thinking of the future when I should have. Now that I am thinking of it, it’s just me. There’s no one to pick up the slack for me when I need a break. No one there; in the morning or in the evening. Because sometimes the grief comes back and it’s still too hard. The elephant in the room is mine alone now. I shouldn’t be so afraid of admitting that. I also still enjoy torturing myself and I shouldn’t run from that truth either.
No waves. At least, not the kind that would be worth mentioning. I returned to Prague a month ago but it feels like much longer. I forgot what the salty air of home smells like and I need a reminder. Instead, I am on a steady diet of books, caffeine, nicotine with the occasional bottle of white wine. Such bohemian life. Days are shorter, my nights longer. Joyce is not here in Hong Kong has been replaced with Mayer’s in Prague. The sun comes out every few days but it never feels like enough. Nothing feels like much of anything right now.
When I crave things, the world is out of balance. When I want things other than what I have, negative energy accumulates on the inside and it cripples me. Malice snowballs toward me and it seems like it will never end. Sleep eludes me, appetite disappears, my skin breaks out. I become impossible to deal with. All of it. My own pride and self-relevance bring me down to my knees. I got it in my head that I have it all figured out; that I’ve made it to the other side. That I am not what I used to be. And I am not.
But it’s days like these that remind me that I am not quite there yet either. That there is still work to do. I need to remember that the bamboo is not yet ready to sprout. I need to remember that the incorrigible side of me still hasn’t learned patience.