Alone

18Jan11

Nothing feels right. As I sit in my room at uni (far, far away from London), surrounded by everything I own, and a space that I can call truly mine; free from the restraints that were leashed upon me at home… I feel nothing.

Yes, I’m happy. I’m happier, in terms of my sense of freedom, and the choices I can make in life. I wouldn’t dare ask or wish to return back home. Home isn’t London any more, it’s here. It’s this room, these four walls; my lumpy bed, my sink, my clutter, my ability to make this space mine. My flatmates… Well they’re okay. We get along, but I can’t help but feel that we only get along because none of us want to be the cause of an actual argument. Which if you think about it, is an even worse position to be in; it’s all niceties and faux happiness, an interest in one another. I feel like, in respect to my flatmates, that I’ve gone back to school. They’re just immature, and it’s like I’m surrounded by people who I thought I had finally managed to remove from my life. Not to mention, being the only gay in the flat (there’s ten of us here, mind you), it’s a little difficult, and lonely at times.

But it’s not really that, that’s the cause of what I’ve been feeling for months. It’s this unabanishing feeling of loss, and incompleteness. Moreover, the more I think about it, the more pathetic I think I become; but in reality, I actually cannot get over my history teacher. I love her; and it’s breaking me.

I don’t miss anyone from home; my Mum… Well, definitely not. The rest of family, certainly not. My friends? I learnt recently how much we’ve grown apart; and being back around them again for a short period over Christmas just made it all the more clear why I chose in the first place to go to a university that no one I know is going to. I don’t miss them, and all in all, I don’t feel like I need them.

But being back, also brought me closer to that person who I want to see more than anyone else in the world. Granted, I know she lives no where near I do; but even just being able to walk past by my old school, and know that she was only there a few days before; it filled me with hope and pain. I was shaking under the control I exerted over myself to not cry. It wouldn’t do to cry in front of my old school around my friends. They don’t understand… I don’t expect them to, I don’t even understand. This whole scenario is just fucking crazy.

But then, when the date of my return back to uni came, I eagerly packed myself away, and left. Once I got to London St. Pancras, where I would get on my train out of London, I was stunned.

Do you ever feel like the world is trying to tell you something? Do you ever feel like you are being given signs from the environments and random people around you, to do something completely off the hook?

Well, that day I did. No matter where I went, I was questioned by the environment; it felt like the world was trying to communicate with me. It was telling me that I needed to go, not back to university, but to go and get her; tell her everything, and make it a possibility.

The thing is, I could have done exactly that.

I had a realisation too, that apart from my commitments to my job, there was nothing and/or nobody awaiting me. At uni, I would be the only one in the flat for well over a week, there was no family member awaiting me, no friend waiting to collect me. Nothing. If my Mum wanted to know where I was, it was up to me to tell her where I was… And what was going to stop me from telling her a lie? There was nothing; and I had everything, literally on my back, that I needed to do whatever I wanted. I had enough money, I had my passport (if I wanted to go abroad), I had enough clothes, and everything else to do whatever I wanted.

And, I actually considered just that. I weighed up my options. I could return to uni, and continue to feel lost, alone, incomplete, and broken; or I could go to her. I could find her, and at least make some effort to make it happen… Because at least if I tried, it was better knowing the truth, than never knowing at all, isn’t it?

Or my final option. Get on the Eurostar, and begin again. New country, new everything. It might have been beautiful.

The invisibility that I felt during those moments was quite possibly the most empowering, and dangerous feeling I’ve had in a long time, if not forever. Everything was possible.

However, as ever, I resided myself to not taking the risks… I wouldn’t want to waste the £20 I spent on my train ticket would I? And what if someone noticed too quickly that I was gone, and then I was found? Or what if, I took that train to her, and I was rejected, and embarrassed? What would happen then?

Which is why I find myself sitting in my room now; my head in a constant battle with itself. One side saying “Well done”, and the other declaring war.

The result of this?

I can’t sleep, I can’t eat, I can’t concentrate, I can’t do my work, I can’t talk to anyone, I can’t feel happy, and I can’t forget. I’m becoming numb, and a non-human. I’m a zombie. I feel sick, I feel weak, and I feel like I’m going crazy. In fact, I’m worried I am already crazy; I keep hearing voices, and this voice keeps speaking to me. I’ve even hallucinated seeing her around; which I know cannot be the case.

This is fucking killing me.

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