I was homesick all evening. It sorta killed me, not everything, but a tiny, tiny part of me definately died. I wrote a poem that made me cry when I read over it. It starts off with anger, anxiety, then fast transforms into pain. Not the one you get now and then, but the pain that sits inside all the time and never leaves. And the pain becomes real quiet as the last line concludes, but it's still there, never letting go.
I cried because it starts of so strong, as if I've got the whole world in my hands, but going through the pain the poem becomes powerless, as if there's nothing that can be done to reduce the pain. I cried because it shows how I feel every now and then, it made me sad. I try not to think that way, but I'm never able to control it, not all the way.
I went to a party at the student union today (yesterday that is). I'm pretty sure it wasn't the best thing to do, but hey, better than sitting all alone in my room. None of my friends were there, at least none of those that I say are my friends. So I went there alone hoping to meet someone I'd know. I met my flatmates and their friends. I know they dislike me, but I joined their circle anyway. There can't be anything worse than dancing alone at a party, in my opinion. So right away I start searching for a cute guy. There were a few whom I had noticed previous weeks, but none were good enough. (Ok, there was one, but he already had a girl around his neck.) Quite a few Scottish guys tried some lame pick up lines, and really bad dance moves. Good try, NAT!
There was this really nice guy that I met though. He's Scottish as well but we started dancing together because my flatmates had went for a drink, and everyone else was elsewhere. So for several times during the night we just sticked together so to say. He tried to get me to dance with him, kinda form one of those couples that you see by the end of every party. I said i just wanted to dance, i didn't however mention that I refused his invite due to the fact that HE was the one inviting. We went outside for a smoke. That was him smoking, me just admitting that I had cigarettes with me, just in case I feel like having one, but I stayed off of them and tried to understand what he and and another guy were talking about. (Yeah, the accent is still sometimes a barrier when communicating with people who have never ever lived outside of Scotland.) I found out that he plays in the american football team (so did the guy that I nicknamed Dog, the first one I went to a date in this country). As it turns out there's about 45 of them. And the cute guy with the gal around his neck is in the team as well. Bullocs ? I think so.
I left the party at about 20 minutes before 3 am (the party ends at 3, and it's always good to leave right before everyone does). By now the dance floor had several 'party couples' but not as many as other nights. The room smelled of sweat and upset men. Most of them were still trying to hunt down some gal. I wanted to leave, the image of the place was sad. Very sad, in any possible way. And the worst part was that I was there, a part of the picture. I found my jacket and in no time I was on my way to the student residence. I allowed myself to have one cigarette. Sew me, i don't care, i'm still a non-smoker. I just have a cigarette or two (or more) on days when I'm kinda depressed, or just drunk and stupid. This was a combination of both.
On my way I was thinking, again, about how sad such parties are, so degrating. And I wondered, all this time I've been going to them. Same agenda: drinks, party, dancing, men, dancing, more drinks, maybe a decent guy, getting back to the rez late, hangover next morning. The SAME every friday. Why had I stayed to the same routine almost every weekend since in Scotland. Why? A thrill, meeting new people, drinking, but the main reason was letting all out on the dance floor. Just enjoying the sounds of music and dancing. Just dancing! Yeah, that's why I go back. (Haha, now I know!) So I was walking all alone and thinking, and I realized what I want. The perfect situation that could be. This is what I came up with: I want to talk. Talk with a person who would listen, a person who I would want to listen to. And just say EVERYTHING, that comes across the mind. We'd be sitting on a bench during fall or spring. The weather would be not too cold, but we would have our jackets on. We'd talk in a fairly late evening, the sun would set soon. In front of us would be a view of a city. Any city, but we'd have a wonderful view, just to make it more perfect. We would talk for hours, days if we had to. I really want that to happen, I want to talk, cry if I must, and laugh, of course. Yes, I want to talk, but most importantly I want to find someone to talk to.
I got to my room and drank some water. Had a kit-kat break, hehe. Went to bed and begun writing this post. When I was describing the party, guess what happened. The fire alarm went of. I was considering staying in my room, but the sound was capable of murdering, I had to go outside. Very upset I got on some clothes and was outside. I treated myself with a cigarette, and I apollagized my self when I was done. "Sorry," I whispered. It was cold outside and now the alcohol was no more warming me up. It was about half part four in the morning. I could see in other people faces that I wasn't the only one mad about this.
I'm back in my room now and I think I should get some sleep.
Sweet dreams to all.
