Well, that's exactly how I feel coming back from my vacation. Ambushed by the temperature difference (from +26C to -2C), disoriented by the not so familiar city, known only for 4 months, unable to remember routine at work, and emotionally crippled by feelings of guilt, loss and lust.
I have had smoother retuns. This time though, full moon, hormones, fatigue and others built up to a sense of alienation unknown till then. I was not even sure of my address given to the cab driver when I drove back from the airport. At work, speaking on the phone was awkward and I felt like a new starter, fumbling for words, trying to make sense to myself.
Inside, my feelings are a jumble of survival instict to carry on no matter what and to coldly face the day, and a tendency to slouch and let go of all the things unsaid for almost 10 years. I should not be so considerate and selfishly guess or make up others's feelings. But a thing unsaid here and there ultimately dragged on too long and now there is this humoungous fear of being too late or having missed an opportunity.
When the Ripper shows up its shadow,...No, when you hear the sound of the hooves carrying him (well, he/she is riding a valiant horse in my imagination), feelings seem to rush about, sorting out people around me (and not so near physically). I now understand how awful and unwanted the word 'regret' is.
Because I do not want to feel regret, I need to sort out the words so that they make sense. But where to start?
*Hiding everywhere is the babelfish translation to 十面埋伏, which opened in the box office as...House of Flying Daggers
1 comment:
I see what you mean with the disoriented part ... I had that just once, when I came back from the US. It was unbearable, everything was messing up my brain, the language which had become noise to me, the corridors that were way too small and so many other little things I had forgotten about. Aller, courage et pour le regret, chuis entierement d'accord, toujours faire les choses pour ne rien regretter plus tard ...
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