My Mumbling Thoughts

I always thought that once I got myself on a schedule, as soon as my classes started up, things would be slightly less hectic and perhaps I'd fall into a groove. A nice and easy groove like I had back home: wake up, go to class, come back to my room, do a little work, tidy up a bit, catch up on my emails/blogs and go to sleep at a decent hour. I wasn't going to let things get out of hand, I wouldn't be a party student, I wouldn't slag off my work.

But already I can see the beginning of me slipping behind. I can feel myself becoming slightly lost. I've lost motivation already and I'm becoming worn down. I'm not as energetic as I once was even before I left home.

Things have become slightly more complicated. Life at home is creeping it's way over the Atlantic and I'm worrying about my family members, my friends and wondering if I'm neglecting them too much. I don't reply to emails as quickly as I once did and I'm not sure what to say whenever they call. The guilt has wormed it's way inside of me and I'm frozen, too scared to do anything other than to clam up tightly and curl up under my covers. It's easier to avoid people when you don't have to see them all the time. It's easier not to think about them when they're not ever present in your day-to-day life. It's easier to just completely forget about it all together and watch the latest episode of Grey's Anatomy or Sex and the City rather than sit alone with your thoughts and swim through it all.

Practically every single weekend since I've been here I've found myself in central London staying with Ash. I don't like staying on campus mostly because it's just so boring. The girls like going out to the bars and clubs and occasionally I'll tag along with them just so I can have a drink or five and slip out into my lucid, alcoholic daydreams. Sometimes I'll find myself sitting on my bed in my room and all I want to do is surround myself with other people just so I'm not all alone anymore. I hate being alone. I hate it a lot more than I had previously assumed while I was still in the comfort of my own queen sized bed back in Virginia.

Earlier today when I was downstairs with Carlene, smoking a cigarette, we were talking about how she had dropped her cell phone down a drain and how surprised she was that it still worked when we both heard something (or someone, rather) fall face first onto the sidewalk and smack their mouth onto the concrete. Carlene immediately put her fag out and quickly started walking towards the woman whose mouth was now bleeding profusely. I, on the other hand just stood there and watched as other people began gathering around her to help and make sure she was okay. I didn't know what was wrong with me or why I decided not to pick up my feet and rush over to her like all of the other people. If I'm honest, I was slightly pissed off that I had to put out one of my cigarettes that I hadn't even smoked halfway just to check on somebody that wasn't paying attention and missed a step. I had only brought one outside and I didn't feel like going all the way upstairs to get another one.

And I thought, "what the fuck, Sam? What The Fuck? You can't even go and check to make sure that the woman is alright? Are you too good to even go over there and offer to call somebody or help her pick up the things that had scattered all over the ground? Are you that big of a selfish cunt?"

I was. I am. It hit me that I'm a lot more sad and stuck in my own pathetic problems, that I've slowly changed into this pessimistic, cynical asshole without even knowing it. I've been too busy distracting myself with so many different things and have forced myself into denial, believing that everything is okay, that I'm not homesick, that I'm alright, that I can do this, that I'm strong, that I'm capable, that everything is alright. Clearly, it's not. Admitting to myself that all of this is hard isn't easy. Telling people that this is difficult, that all of the changes coming at me are stretching me to an unnatural limit, is something that I don't want to do. Showing any signs of weakness and vulnerability is in some ways, a priviledge to witness if I let you.

I did check on the woman and it was very clear that she had plenty of people around to help her. So I left, came back upstairs, told the girls that I wasn't going to the bar and washed my two giant piles of laundry. I decided that it's good to have fun going out and begin to build my life here in London, but I need a balance. I need some alone time, I need to think about my home a little more, I need to work on my classwork a lot more and I need to allow myself some time to feel sad and cry about the fact that even though I wanted all of this, that it's going to take a lot of time to make all of these new changes feel like home.

And most importantly, I need to remember that even when I'm alone in my room, that there are a lot of people out there who love and care about me, even if they don't show it all the time. I'm never alone and it's always nice to show that you care back and to never forget all of the support and help that I received to get my ass over here in the first place.