I have of late, but wherefore I know not, lost all my mirth and indeed it goes so heavily with my disposition that this goodly frame the earth seems to me a sterile promontory; this most excellent canopy the air, look you, this mighty o'rehanging firmament, this majestical roof fretted with golden fire; why, it appeareth nothing to me but a foul and pestilent congregation of vapours. What a piece of work is a man, how noble in reason, how infinite in faculties, how like an angel in apprehension, how like a God! The beauty of the world, paragon of animals; and yet to me, what is this quintessence of dusk. Man delights not me, no, nor women neither, nor women neither.
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I wrote this entry over a year ago now. Sitting at Liverpool station in Sydney awaiting my train home. A questioning time for me upon returning to London and what I was searching for in the meantime, it became a small insight into a lot of built up frustration and unresolved issues.
In Sydney now before finding these scrawled in a blue book that someone close to me gave me a while ago along with many a love letter we shared. I read these letters to find happiness and the self-doubt which still lay within my writing. Her writing was that of love and emotion which I possibly have missed from time to time throughout my irregular relationships over years. I forgot about these letters and the thought the time that went into each upon sending them to her, and remembered that it was my first ever love. As one would say though, love is blind.
Reading these year-old scrawling it made me realise my head space has cleared after 12 months ago. I sit bored wanting something to do in Sydney instead of feeling relieved that I am safe and can relax. The rest of the year ahead determines a lot of judgement for me, and I am not afraid of it, as I look forward to it and the possible mistakes I could make.
A year as taught me a lot. I have met some of the most amazing people in this time while in London and they have shared with me their own life. Sobbing my heart out over Dave's shoulder only days ago made me realise that I was making the right decision because I was not worried about my future but looking forward to leaving London. I was finished with Europe and was awaiting the next big thing.
Anyhow, enough of the sob story - read on if you wish.
My deepest fear is failure. The thought itself exists within the environment that surrounds me. The awakening of the next day brings the memory of what personal pressure I have placed upon myself. Yet I have let my fear once again become evident. This pressure cannot be lifted without the help of an existence I cannot perceive. Nor the entails of my tears that I constantly shed in my growing emotional state.
Count a score ago and I will regret from there. My belief in things have demoralised my own personal judgement to that of a rash, ill-received, somewhat depressed individual in the eyes of friends and now family. I contemplate the hole, which I admit to myself that I have shovelled. However, in the midst of my thought I forget to see the horizon of forgotten expectation I once had and continue to conceive through moments of clarity.
I had wished once for it all to end, a constant battle of awaking each morning to have the idea for a new plan. This is how sadistic and ill my thoughts about my future had concluded. Was I chasing attention?I had a fear of love and commitment, but had yearn its feeling. I feared of letting someone down, but as time progressed, I constantly understood that my laziness, portrayal and notion had become skewed. I then moved to London, it disappeared in a blur. Only to have it blur back into my conscious when I arrived back home. I depart back to London in fear of an expectant next couple of months of misery filled with self poverty while in exile. I have a new improved plan this time without the sadness, and to overcome my fear ..... failure.
The uncomfortable thought I get once faced with the what's ahead is a peculiar mix of how you perceive will happen being a realist. Understanding that faith of what you plan may have its flaws and weaknesses also has the success rate on how much spirit you involve yourself within. Rash decisions have been made in the past and the old saying of 'once you fall down, you pick yourself back up again' springs to my mind. But, then you think, how long does it take to move on, as you continue to stumble through emotion and lost control of your own willpower.
I've been told many a time to make a list, even of the smaller things that you want to change in your life, do not stick by it, but use it as a guide. Sure I can say "It's hard being me". But, that just invokes pity. I need to lose sight of trying to be the attention, but yet to understand it. Seek and ye shall find, I would be lying if I haven't tried to seek, but am I looking in the wrong places? Am I seeking approval or justification that my decision is right or wrong?
I think it becomes evident to me that next year I turn 30 and yet I feel that I have not done anything I am proud of to get me there. Yes I can say I achieved this or that, but to say that I would be lying as I have never been 100% committed in having that achievement succeed. SO the question I ask today was, should I go back to London? It's the first time I have asked myself this. I know it be would be the only reason and sensible thing to do. Than I fear if I go, when will I return again.... not if.
Never sell yourself short. 12 months go by in your life and things change, sometimes for the better and sometimes for the worse, but I'm sure in your life when you're thinking one thing, you'll quite possibly forget about it all in 12 months time because you have new idea's, endeavours, love/lust interests and worries to concern you.
It's good to smile in Sydney again, it's taken me a long time.
Three am is a wonderful opportunity to explore the avenues of insight and what lies beneath a veil of anxiety and belief that the knowledge you have collected, shared and influenced over a few years with people comes to a close and a possible new chapter emerges.
We have many avenues to pursue and make mistakes throughout our life and finally for a number of days, weeks, months and years I feel it is time for me to emerge out of my cocoon of self resin and ‘be strong’. The encounters I will face in this new chapter lie emerged in a layer of self doubt that I left behind.
I cried with a passion of leaving people behind in London on Sunday morning and throughout Sunday evening. The joy of crying was more of a relief that I fulfilled what I came here to achieve and succeed in. I found happiness with some of the greatest of friends I could call my own. I leave with a sense of sadness on many a subject but as the ‘Alice in Wonderland treadmill’ kept being turned on, I knew that my happiness would soon subside if I stayed longer than I expected. Pursuing the inevitable is a trait we all desire but sometimes acknowledge that love itself is around each corner and one ‘boof-head’ is always willing to accept you for who you are.
I sit looking at unpacked bags and a conformed weigh in of luggage which I feel guilty of leaving behind. Funny how the perception of luggage is thought another way near five years ago when I decided that it was time for me to move away from Australia.
Space will be the only option when I return to Australia. The claustrophobia of London will soon subside and ‘en-shala’ I will emerge that home is where the heart lies.
Personal tragedy aside. I feel that I am not the only one to share the loss of leaving a place they have grown fond of throughout the years for a given reason. Our lives are enriched with the experience we descend into with each day we get out of our beds, dress in our cotton and open the door to be enthralled in what the rest of the waking hours brings us (alas Monday’s are exempt from this).
The people who miss me, know eventually where to find me. The friends who miss me however, should not feel discouraged, because they are always heavy upon my heart, and I will always be with them.
To the banner I tell people and to the love I have shared with many. Remember, especially, when you have friend willing to pour you another drink or play you another song…..
London is a lonely place, but you will never feel alone.
Returning back from Egypt and Jordan has made the fine lines of stress and age disappear and has become replaced with a pink layer of sunshine and half a smile of the road ahead.
I have been organizing this Saturday’s farewell alongside Sam and Jaime’s and am looking forward to falling unconscious come 3am Sunday.
Being a little worried about a few things upon my departure by not saying all my goodbyes and if I have got everyone’s contact details, along with the fact of leaving Guilia (she’s been so positive with me, as we both know the final stretch is looming over us) here in London.
Also worried about my arrival back to Sydney, as I have dropped out of contact with most people there, but alas this is just something I will face when I get back. Just heard Little Al is returning to London in July (like ships passing in the darkness).
With the ‘How was Egypt?’ still echoing through my head from all my happy friends, I still try to think how it was. I can only explain that apart from the little hiccups that Dave and I experienced throughout the 18 days - that it would have to be the best travel adventure I have ever had. Every day there was something to laugh at and laugh with. A little fluffy bunny rabbit (DirkaDirkaBirkaDirkaMuhammed "Ali") sat in my pocket most of the adventure around Egypt and Jordan and it always attracted the attention of locals. Getting food poisoning was a necessity that we all found sobering. Bartering not entirely one of my strongest traits however I drive a mean bargain against the children of Egypt. The vodka and whiskey is not to be trifled with, it is for medicinal purposes only. If you're from Colombia you are considered Egyptian. Dave continues to practice the art of homosexual scuba diving. I have a strong fascination with calling myself Prince Mustafa when I wear mirrored shades and a dress now. Re hydration is a must however thinking those salts did anything for you was a joke.
I have been asked by Dave to recount our daily tales in the near future and as my head slower deteriorates to liver abuse I feel that it might be a possible pipe dream.
So I'm not currently within the creative mood of writing just yet as I’m too relaxed to think of the misadventures of life for you all to concentrate on. So in the meantime why don’t you all open up a recipe book and cook something you haven’t cooked before, and take a before and after photo.