Back to life, back to reality. Gone are my whimsical days spent galavanting around a tropical paradise, lost in a dream I didn't want to wake up from.
Almost a week into being home, reality is starting to settle in. I have unpacked, gotten a cell phone, applied for jobs, driven a car, wasted hours on the internet. The initial excitement of my return has eased, and life slowly creeps back to a rhythmical norm.
It will always be home. It will always be the place I return to at the end of some great adventure, they will always be the loving bunches of arms I run into to welcome me back, and I will never stop being grateful for that. I can only hope they understand.
What is a "normal" life, anyway? Who was it that decided getting a mediocre job I barely care about, working my ass off to impress a boss who can barely afford to keep me employed, and dressing up and playing the part of someone who impresses other people is normal? To me it all sounds contrived. Forcing an existence upon a soul - like all human souls - that just wants to break free. Fly with the wind, rush around, feel the excitement of that freedom we all posses deep down in that sometimes hidden pit of us that makes us animal, unbridled, and fucking free.
Free to do what we please. Free to realize the difference between doing what we please as an aware, conscientious being rather than doing so to fuck the world and everyone in it. Free to explore the outer boundaries of all we are capable of, all we can experience, everything we can learn. Free to realize what truly, honestly makes us happy at the most basic and natural point of our souls. Free to realize a way to achieve whatever that may be, and free to have the courage to do it.
I could have continued to convince myself a conventional life was the life for me. Dress up, parade around, put on a show, and be pretty happy. Happy, but empty. A shell of a person the world wants and expects me to be, without the depth of the person I know I can be. Or I could accept my dreams, however unstable and far-fetched they may be, and stop fearing them. Stop fearing the reperocussions of chasing a life the Western world would call "abnormal", and be truly happy.
The plane ticket I bought from Bangkok to LA was a round trip. I hope they understand.
Almost a week into being home, reality is starting to settle in. I have unpacked, gotten a cell phone, applied for jobs, driven a car, wasted hours on the internet. The initial excitement of my return has eased, and life slowly creeps back to a rhythmical norm.
It will always be home. It will always be the place I return to at the end of some great adventure, they will always be the loving bunches of arms I run into to welcome me back, and I will never stop being grateful for that. I can only hope they understand.
What is a "normal" life, anyway? Who was it that decided getting a mediocre job I barely care about, working my ass off to impress a boss who can barely afford to keep me employed, and dressing up and playing the part of someone who impresses other people is normal? To me it all sounds contrived. Forcing an existence upon a soul - like all human souls - that just wants to break free. Fly with the wind, rush around, feel the excitement of that freedom we all posses deep down in that sometimes hidden pit of us that makes us animal, unbridled, and fucking free.
Free to do what we please. Free to realize the difference between doing what we please as an aware, conscientious being rather than doing so to fuck the world and everyone in it. Free to explore the outer boundaries of all we are capable of, all we can experience, everything we can learn. Free to realize what truly, honestly makes us happy at the most basic and natural point of our souls. Free to realize a way to achieve whatever that may be, and free to have the courage to do it.
I could have continued to convince myself a conventional life was the life for me. Dress up, parade around, put on a show, and be pretty happy. Happy, but empty. A shell of a person the world wants and expects me to be, without the depth of the person I know I can be. Or I could accept my dreams, however unstable and far-fetched they may be, and stop fearing them. Stop fearing the reperocussions of chasing a life the Western world would call "abnormal", and be truly happy.
The plane ticket I bought from Bangkok to LA was a round trip. I hope they understand.
