Nesting my own trap
I'm quiet. Observing everything, as usual.
Life keeps happening and I keep my calm and my feet in the ground. Yet, there are moments that I wish that I'll hit something huge around the corner and to hell with the calm.
But wishing for something that will blow up the actual state of things, on which depends my family and myself, points to how selfish can a fantasy be.
After all, adventures are caused by love, conflicting friendship, trauma, war and suffering from all sorts. Not sure I want adventures then.
My fantasy goes in the way of having a conversation. To whom I can tell my story? and whose story am I to witness? And because that never ever happens, because it seems there is no affinity among others, then I find myself wishing of running over, leave the country, start all over.
As if I had not done it already! I did it twice! Just to face that, after some months of distraction/adjustment to the new place, the old sensation of no belonging, no connection, returns and traps me all back again.
It made me wonder: maybe I made it up. Where do I get the notion about how a friendship should be? where did I learn how human connection looks like and what a real conversation is?
Well, I got it from the books. Books written by people. Good writers, people capable of unloading the best of the stories, and the most complex characters. How something that never ever happened can be described in such detail, with such color? The author recreates something, that author knows what you are looking for, knows what we are 'all' after. So how come it is so difficult if we are so equal? Answer must be: it all happened and happens frequently. Is just that I'm somehow out of this process.
Reaching once and again the same conclusion about the lack of importance of the individual. Must admit this state of mind is brought on by reading Milan Kundera - The Unbearable Lightness of Being which made me think an awful lot. And then crushed by watching Outlander, oh, silly me. Watching and feeling Scotland reminded me of those green mountains in the north that I could not bear anymore. Reminded me of how important is to have roots.
And something to believe in.