I haven't written yet, not since I left for India, not since I've been home, not since I left the country early, not since... well, last time. I'm not even sure where to begin or what to say or even if I have anything to say since so much has happened and yet things remain completely the same as well. I went to India I lived with monks and children and received blessings and blights. I went to Starwood and saw a bonfire visible from space, and found my space as visible to others. I made some friends and got drunk for the first time. School begins soon and I can't understand where the summer went... I want to say so much about everything. About the abject poverty and how drinking water here feels like something for which I should be grateful. How I spent all this money on presents for people because in some ways knowing I could make them happy with "things" made it feel less bad that so many people had nothing. Being there was exceptionally hard and painful and rewarding. "the most beautiful hellhole on earth" was how I described it today and I stand by what I said. There is too much to say and so I think I will continue to say nothing at all. I find myself waiting to catch up to myself, like in moments I will sneak up behind me and tap myself on the shoulder and then we'll be together again. Maybe my father will be there.
I spent an entire day today feeling as I often feel - that I am alone in a crowd, a group of people who love me dearly and for whom I return the affections, but who know me not at all. I called Thomm because I was so abandoned in my skin that I needed someone who knew me in all my faults and glories and abandonments and loved me just the same. I wanted to feel safer than I felt in this crowd. I took a sleeping pill to bring on the oblivion in the hopes that this deep internal loneliness will abate, that the Morrigan will wait until morning. Samhain is coming, the darkest times of the year lay in front of me and already I feel the light fading with the summer breeze. Alone with the crowds of people, different, always so different. Maybe my father will be there.