finale
Two weeks in and I’m in love. Another hopeless case. Another
married woman who is merely trying to be my friend. But, oh, how majestic she
is. You know the feeling you get when you walk along with someone and feel so
proud to be next to them? You feel so hopeful that people think this person is
your partner. And it’s pathetic. She’s just trying to be helpful and kind… and,
after two weeks, I feel like I want to suggest that we run away together and
never resurface. The truth is I am lost. I’ve been thinking of dramatic escapes
and endings. I’ve been wondering if Madrid should be the final chapter. I have
nothing to go back to. I have nothing to stay for. I have nothing to go
anywhere for or do anything for. I have had a good time and I have travelled.
But I have suffered tremendous heartache and emotional anguish. I have
struggled to belong from the moment I first went to nursery school, and we all
made cardboard dinosaurs, right through to my life in South Africa, America,
England, Spain. I didn’t belong in the punk scene or the metal scene… and certainly
no other scenes. I did a degree in literature but don’t get along with the
literary crowd. I work with computers and don’t really get along with the IT
crowd. I’m just not cut out for all the bullshit. I always felt happiest at
home, watching a film or reading a book, alone, with the two cats beside me.
Comments
Post a Comment