So the night began by me starting to feel sick. My throat was hurting and my face was hot. Damn it! That guy who'd been coughing below me in the bunk bed for 3 days has gotten me sick! Whatever, I'll get over this by pretending it's not there. So I went to the hostel bar to drink a pint or 2 before going out on London.
I'm always sort of awkward when I'm in bars, or in public. When I'm my own generally. I thought I had grown out of it but no, if I'm uncomfortable I feel like the smallest thing around. Though most people in hostels are ages 18-25, I always feel 15 when I'm around them. I even thought I was tipsy enough to start a conversation with these two ladies but yah... that was awkward.
So I moved on. I wanted to find a good pub or club to hangout in and make some British friends. Boy is London generally not a night life kind of place. And you know what, I don't think I am either. Anyways, after about an hour of walking around Soho I finally found a decent looking club with a line up of young people so I queued up too. "Is this a good club?" I asked someone going in and she said it was. In hindsight it w
asn't really. It was kind of like a dance party at the Club Optimist back home only... a little bit more "official" oh and there was booze.
Anyways, I tried making friends with the graduates but most of them were cold and huddled in their groups. Even on the dance floor everyone was rather uptight and turned around on themselves. Alright, I get it, you can't go out alone in London. I'm going to leave then... It's 1 in the morning, but I know my night bus, it's N7... I
'll be fine. So I go to pick up my coat but I can't find my number. Will this matter? Of course not... What do you mean I can't pick up my cot without a number? Oh come on, I know which one it is... I have to wait 'til the night is up to pick it up... 3:30 am?
I was going to sit around and wait, but then these Spaniards kept picking me up to dance, I felt like their play thing... blabla dancing, I'm a funny little monkey.... Then one day it was 3:30 I got my coat. It felt amazing to have it on me, like I was back home for a moment, and then I was out.
Now, the N7 bus passes on Wardour street, so I had to find Wardour street. Then I had to find the bus stop. I had to buy a ticket because my week-pass had just terminated, 2.50£. Then wait for the bus, hiccuping, sniveling, coughing, humming a tune. And then the bus appears in the distance and I hold out my hand to say, 'yo, pick me up!' AND IT JUST PASSES BY ME!! OI! So I start running after it like 'I don't know how to get back home!!' I got scared for a while that I would get lost and wander 'til the tube stations worked again, though I am proud to say I have found my way back with little trouble :).
Then I went to bed and woke up very sick :(.
Me not following my heart's impulses.
I'm sick and homesick. I'm wondering if I want to stick around in London. Why did I even want to come here? The nightlife? Changing my own life. Figuring out how to live on my own? Figuring out who I am and what I want to do with myself. I thought this place was beautiful compared to home, but I haven't even had the chance (or taken it) to appreciate the beauty. I wanted to live the fast life, but now I'm not so sure. I think I'd like to live the slow life in the country, should I follow that lead then? I think I'd like to meet people like me, people who might find me loveable. Being homesick has made all my unloveable sides flare up. I'm absolutely not trying to make friends or get a job. Those are signs of depression. I keep dreaming of home at night. I miss it.
I guess that's being homesick. It'll pass. I'm not going home 'til I'm happy here.