Once upon a time, I had a life in Canada and this song was popular. I miss being naive young.
As it stands, I am six months away from completing my third year in Kuwait. The person I was when I reached this land no longer exists. I don't know where she is, and I haven't heard from her in a while.
I miss her.
In her place, I've found this new S. I've been struggling with her for a while now. She's so rash, so young and overly eager. She hasn't seen a world outside of Kuwait. She's forgotten many things I no longer remember; the sound of snow crunching under her boots, riding the bus, walking to school, doing laundry... Someone else did these things, a long time ago. She's eager, and easily excited. I can't seem to keep her in check. Being so young, she's constantly starving, wanting to devour everything in sight. Every emotion, every sound, every glance... She's on fire and I don't know how to quench her thirst.
Schizophrenia aside, life has been good. I'd almost say too good, but then again I have been sweating blood for almost a year now trying to create the life I've always wanted and so I think I'll just enjoy the payoff without worrying about any future debt.
(The way I see it? If you're not broke, you're not living) (Yeah, I don't know what that means either. Cut me some slack; I haven't written a while).
Writing this, I'm listening to the song I've added above and I'm surrounded by boxes, suitcases and general chaos. No, we're not leaving the country; we're simply moving to a larger home. Why bring this up? Well, this is the most familiar setting I've found myself since moving to this country two and a half years ago. The dull thud of brown boxes hitting marble, the fluid sound of zippers and plastic bags rustling... If I close my eyes, it's almost like I'm in my old life again. It's as though we're back in Canada (my real home), and we're preparing for the next major move. Usually, my nerves would burn with an intoxicating mix of anxiety, anticipation and excitement; just think of all the new people, new teachers, news books!
Not this time. After the last piece of clothing has been hung and the last screw twisted, I'll still be in Kuwait. A new carpet doesn't change that. The most disturbing part? I'm not as upset about this as I'd like to be.
I don't like where we are. I need to move out of Kuwait, soon.
Feeling blissfully spent,
PS - You are the one that lies close to me, Kuwait. (Unfortunately for both of us).
PPS - How fucking excited are we to have the sun back? Spring rocks.