My friend and I met up and talked about isolation. The week prior had been rough as I had to deal with letting go of people. Then, it seemed like asking for more when I went on to live alone for a week in a city so strange and vast. Yet, ironically, the solitude afforded me solace and a most welcome company, that is, myself.

I was also at a point in my life where I most needed directions. Where do I go from here? Might as well share the time when I literally got lost for nearly an hour. Getting impatient to wait for a taxi, I decided to walk from my hotel to my destination. At first, I was feeling confident that I got this; navigation might not be my strongest suit but I wasn't too bad at it either. The northern star was this tall building which I remember was near my destination. But along the way, I lost sight of the building, thanks to the old giant trees, and found myself confronted with several stairways and pathways which led to even more uncertainty. I whipped out my phone for a map but that confused things further. The second best option was to just ask around for directions. Some answers were jumbled but asking around helped. I found the right way at last. 

That week spent mostly alone has given me such clarity and focus after some time being lost: I cannot be here; I cannot be this kind of person; I am not this kind of person to begin with. But it's okay; I'm okay with abandoning station to head to a more suitable place.

Nostalgia also hit me hard after meeting up with three of my writer friends. I realized how much I miss our carefree summer in the mountains three years ago. For a while, I could not explain how I was feeling after that wonderful (albeit short) evening. But it felt like this: going back to your childhood room after a long time of being away; much older now and quite worn; that musty smell of the house, which escaped your memory for years, was now all too familiar; then, you dusted off the shelves, cleared out the cobwebs, swept away the dirt on the floor, doing your best to make the room bright and new again; building yourself a home out of an old room. It felt so nice to be so sure that I have not given up on some dreams yet.

In the morning of my flight back home, a college friend asked me why I hated the big city so much compared to my sleepy hometown. I guess, it's because you got to put on a metal suit every day to shield yourself from all sorts of harm and danger. You got to be strong in a different way. In an exoskeleton kind of way. Like a fortress. Very much unlike the kind of strength I wanted - vulnerability, honesty, gentleness. You got to be loud, to speak out, to have a certain opinion on everything. But hate was too strong of a word; it's not remotely close to the right word at all. 

But what is it that you like at least? Despite the recent events, I remain to be optimistic about people. The people in the big city, or at least the people I know, are good people. They are intelligent and amazing. I hope to be like them. 

Also, living in a shrunken world, that is, a world confined to daily routines and usual territories, you tend to forget that there is life outside of yours. Being humbled by the big city, I let go of some troubles that are not worthy of losing precious sleep over. The world is big. One must only remember to not lose sight of the northern star again. 

with love,

abelink