Home: Retrospect

My stuff is unpacked, and I am picking up my life again in the sense that I’ve now spent 2 days in front of my computer. Ahhh laziness how much I missed you.

I am glad to be home, I honestly am. I usually go through a bit of a rut when I come home from holidays. This whole ugly country can burn for all I care, and all I want is to leave again. But not this time. I had enough of travelling for now. It’s quite an exciting feeling, the urge to resume life where I left it behind and moving on. Now that accommodation, food and income are pretty secure again, I may be able to spend this new-found energy on other things, like working on my house a little. I already fixed the light in the bathroom, next on the list is the leaking tap and then maybe see what I can do about the drafty wall. In many ways this place is quite shabby, but what can I say. It’s mine. My little house. Shabby, like me.


The trip was, in more ways than one, a complete failure. Don’t get me wrong, I don’t regret a single thing about it, but I might have handled things differently if I had knows how they would go. The point was to make myself open up to strangers, and that didn’t go anywhere at all. I was supposed to be free of hesitation in a place where no one knew me, instead I still remained my timid self. Countless times I went out to to the city, which ever it was, to get among people. And with only a few exceptions, I only managed to make myself miserable as I wandered on, with nothing to say to any of a world full of beautiful people. That’s the thing, you see. I’m not one of them.

In another sense, I accomplished things I didn’t think I’d be able to. From facing challenges to failing them without taking it personal, I surprised myself on several occasions. And along the way, much to my relief, I was able to get my ex out of my head. Ironically, occupied with a dozen things at once, finally I got some peace of mind.

Yes, my ex… The prime reason I needed to get out. Even as the trip had been planned as much as I would allow it to be, it continued to tear at me. Just seeing her with others turned the knife. I remember sitting in a car in Ireland, having mentioned her casually in a conversation with my driver. Staring out the passenger window (To my left, which was weird) I couldn’t help but wonder what she would be doing. I tried to figure out if she would be thinking of me as well, and if so, why at this particular time. Leave it to me to overthink any casual thought of the moment. I hoped that she did, sometimes, and that she missed me. That she had an equally hard time to get over me, and that she still had that same tendency to stay true to me, even after all this time.

And then it hit me, like a train. She did not. She had lost all this before we even broke up. She cheated on me. She cheated me. Lied to me, when I was on my knees. Kicked me when I was down. And then told me to forgive her. She didn’t ask me, she told me to. Saying it was her right to explain the details I didn’t want to hear.
She betrayed me and the seven year old trust that I found evident to be holy, unbreakable.


I cried on this trip. Like a girl. Several times. Not once was I alone, but no one noticed, thank Maynard. Because they were asleep, or simply because it was pouring rain. If a tree falls in the forest…
I cried because I knew that what I was doing, was irreversible. Things would never be the same again. I’ve been in this kind of situation before, but always I felt that the solution, her love, was right around the corner. And time and time again I was proven right. And that’s why it hurt so badly, now that things were different.

It’s the reconstruction of a soul
And that’s why it hurts.

-Travel log

The only way was forward, and now that I was walking away in the literal sense as well as the figurative, I could feel myself die with each step. This knowledge, this trust, was part of my foundation. And now I’m constantly figuring out ways to remove it, like a tumor from a… tit. I dunno.
If there is one song that reminds me of her, it’s "Love Song" by The Cure. It’s a farewell song, and I connected it with our relationship because in a sense, I always knew it would end one way or the other. We were just too different, but today I loved her, and that was all that mattered to me. So now I’m listening to this song, again and again. Until the ties are broken and I can move on without cracking every time someone feels like listening to it.

It’s a damn fucking shame, I know. We’re all so eager to believe that love conquers all. But seriously. Honestly. I’ve fucking HAD IT. I’m DONE. ENOUGH IS ENOUGH.


I always believed that she is the reason that I don’t want to talk to strangers. I grew up with her by my side, and often enough she was all that I needed to get by. She was my conscience, libido and common sense. What more does a man need? I concluded this long ago and until recently, I had assumed it quite self-evident. But I’m not so sure of it anymore, today.

Talking to strangers is one thing, but I also have the tendency to keep friends at a safe distance. They check the skies for flying pigs if I ever call them, and I have a (short) line of girls that I sent walking after they suggested they actually liked me. Could all this be from the same source? I’m beginning to doubt it, it seems illogical to me. I’ve had a much harder time breaking through this pattern than I anticipated, I’ve begun to believe that it’s something rooted deeper than I originally assumed.

Could it have to do with my mother? Did I have this behavior before she passed away? I… don’t think I respond differently to maternal figures, even though they’re quite obvious when I encounter them since they trigger very different feelings.

This bugs me terribly. It’s one of my most defining character traits and I don’t even know where it comes from. I suppose a psychologist might be able to tell me, but it might actually be a while until I beat it out of them. They have this annoying tendency to tell you shit you didn’t ask for. Tsh. Amateurs.


Alright now, let’s talk positive. Let’s get a few things straight: I am thrilled that I did this. It wasn’t quite what I hoped it to be, but still exactly what I needed. The difference in life energy today compared to new years is "sky broad" as they say here. Day and night difference.

My logs may have given a different impression, and for that I apologize. Yes obviously I enjoyed my time where ever, but face it. You really don’t want me going "Holy shit it’s so nice here and the people are so nice and there’s mountains here which is nice and nice and… shit nice and fuck and and" Fuck that. It’s not about peaks or valleys in mood, it’s about the difference of such. Even at a constant high, you’ll have ruts and ditches. And in my opinion, they’re just as important to spot as high points in troubled times. That is to say, objectively they are. Didn’t I promise myself to focus on positive things? Well the weather is nice today. It’s not raining. That’s nice.

One of the major contrasts between now and then is my attitude. This is to be my very last griping session, from here on I’m moving on like I did physically. One step at the time, but always walking. Always.
I finally got the chance to make this decision. On several occasions I broke down and thought I was better off going home and getting back in touch with my ex. Things were easy back then. It never lasted longer than a few seconds. In between those moments, I finally got the priceless opportunity to see things clearly for a little while, able to step back and get a more objective standpoint. And getting back together is not an option. Not because that’s how things are, but because that’s what I decided. From this day on, I decide. I determine what road to take, and I chose solitude- for now. Knowing that I could handle it. I started this trip, and I will finish it. I’m done being the victim of the situation. It’s no longer just how things out, from now on it’s how I decided things to be. I could have made a different choice, but I didn’t. No more blaming her. No more blaming that little fuck for my miserable life.
Bear in mind though, that I will still fuck him up if I ever run into him. Bad. If you know this little bastard, and some of you might, tell him to stay away.



So here I am, 2009 and a new beginning. Hardly any coherent new years resolutions other than "rebirth" which I promise myself every damn time. Drivers licence, maybe, so I can get that crew chief position and boss around people easily twice my age. Fix the tap. And the wall. Find a girlfriend. Be happy again. Be happy again.
Be happy again.


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