The flu made me write this
Mon, 13 Nov 2017 03:21:00 +0000
I’m home sick with the flu and I’ve spent the last five hours looking at flats for rent on SpareRoom in London because I’m being nostalgic as fuck. I’m trying really hard to remember what I didn’t like about London, to resume the feeling I had towards the end of my stay, the itchiness for leaving and travelling and discovering new places, but it just doesn’t come back. I know that when we decided to move overseas I simply I couldn’t stand living in London anymore, but now that I’m here I wonder what the hell was I thinking. Here in Wellington, it feels like I’m stuck in a snow globe and I can see everything happening in the outside world but I can’t take part in it. I mean, I know a lot of shit is happening in the world and this is probably the safest place I could be and people are trying to get away from Europe and the States because of all the horrible things happening there, BUT. I liked being in the middle of everything. As much as hated commuting and Oxford Street and overcrowded places, at least I was close to the rest of the world. I could fly home in half a day. I just watched a bunch of old videos that I made when I was in London and they reminded me of how cheap food used to be, and yes I know rent was crazy expensive and doing stuff was crazy expensive but you could easily survive on £20 of groceries a week and I could afford to buy books even on a super low wage and this image of myself keeps on coming back to my head and it’s a happy me. The most recurring one is from when I used to live in Homerton and I would cycle into town via London Fields, in the autumn fog. And then, the more I think about it, the more I realise the things I miss are the things I never had. White tiles. Wooden floors. A fancy apartment. Succulents. I have this idea of London that was never real life for me. I’ve always lived in crappy flats, shopped at Primark, had to cycle not because it was cool but because I could hardly afford a Tube monthly pass. And I know that if I were to go back to London, I would find myself in the same exact situation. It would be a thousand times harder to get a job, and I would again end up living in Zone 5 and spending the majority of my time on a jam-packed train. Yet, I long for good old Europe. I miss it. I miss my friends and family. I miss old stuff. Red brick buildings and the smell of history. I miss Broadway Market, and Victoria Park, and the houseboats on Camden canal. I miss Foyles and Paperchase. I miss Cass Art and the record stores. I miss the awareness that if anything cool had to happen in the world, it would happen right there where I was. Here, all I get is quiet and nature. Which I do like, but nothing ever freaking happens here, and I can go for walks and hikes as much as I want but that’s never going to make up for the fact that I do miss city life a freaking lot. And the fact that I’m so far away from my family is really starting to weigh on me. I’m going home in 23 days and it’s going to take me 37 hours to get there. And after a month I’ll be here again, with no idea when I’m gonna go back again. I miss my friends and family so much. In spite of all the good friends I’ve made here. This is so freaking far away.