December Diaries

A lot of thoughts in my head tonight.
Maybe it's just an empty Saturday night, 
or maybe it's a symptom of big changes,
finally coming to light.

Life's got me reminiscing lately. I wonder if it's because of the end of my twenties in a few months. Maybe it's the anxiety that creeps in when someone steps out of his comfort zone. 

Most humans are personalities of conflict. They believe in God, and yet they choose to sin. When the reality of life strikes you, it's often hard to practice what you preach. I believe I'm no different. I advocate stepping out of your comfort zone, and yet, deep down, I acknowledge that I'm a man of routine. I advocate a sporty lifestyle, and yet, every December, I turn into a Chipmunk, buried deep in his room, occasionally coming out for food. 

I often wondered if this is a phase. I believed that being an adult meant being stronger and not giving into these urges of weakness. I was truly convinced that I'll be better when I'm older, and now that I'm older, I wonder if I should accept myself or improve myself. 

Here I am, wrapping up my twenties, and along with it, wrapping up my apartment, for a move to a new city, new country, new life. There's something about moving that always fills you up with a mix of emotions. I'm meeting my close friends one last time before moving out, and there's normally a sort of standard set of questions that come my way. The person I'm meeting will usually start with the logistics of the move, the basic questions like the when, how, if there's any help needed, the process, etc. Invariably, there's a discussion related the how the pandemic is complicating all of these things. Lastly, there's always a question about how I'm feeling about it, and no matter how many times I've been asked this, I still haven't been able to come up with an answer. 

Deep down, I want to give them an honest answer. They're people I care about and they're also people who, I believe, care about me. Tonight, when my brain has abandoned all plans of resting, I'm looking at a yellow wall in my apartment, trying to come up with an honest answer. 

The honest answer is, it feels strange, even scary at times. It's not because of the usual reasons though. I'm not scared of being in a new environment or being in unfamiliar territory etc. It's not fear of the unknown as one might call it. I've been in plenty of such situations before. 

I feel like it's a deeper anxiety, more at the level of my personal conscience and beliefs, rather than at the level of how my daily life is going to change. One of my friends once said, "People who move abroad are a small, self-selecting group of people. Most of them will move countries and cities for either of the 2 reasons - either to escape famine/poverty, or to chase success." This made a lot of sense to me. 

Although, in my personal experience, there's also a third category of people - people who are looking to just escape. My ex-girlfriend used to say, "Home is where the heart is". I could never quite communicate this to her, but sometimes, the heart doesn't want to be home. Sometimes it's just too painful to be there. So the heart seeks to wander, hoping it will find a new home. Even if it doesn't, the heart is convinced that not having a home might just be better off than being in the current home, and so, the heart wanders. 

When I moved abroad the last time, I moved with a purpose, education, but without expectations. Consequently, I had an aim, but at the same time, was open to all kinds of experiences that may come my way. This time, as I pack my bags for another town, I'm moving without a purpose, but with expectations. Consequently, I have no aim, and limited curiosity about the new destination. 

In a weird way, I feel like my mind is not seeking experiences, but a purpose. So I keep telling myself, that I am chasing success. I'm trying to give myself a purpose that will justify it to the heart that it's worth it. Deep down, I feel like my brain is lying to my heart. 

I am moving for love. I am moving with hope that my heart will finally feel like it's at home. So yes, it's daunting at the very least, and sleep-depriving at the very worst. It's a move that doesn't have a high success rate statistically and doesn't make sense pragmatically. It's a leap of faith at the very best, and yet, I'm on my way. 

I've never been very religious. I tell everyone that I'm agnostic for the most part. However, I do understand what having faith means. Mankind has done extreme things, both good and bad, purely with faith in their hearts. So who am I to not have faith on this journey? Am I scared? Very much. Do I have faith? Just as much. So I must go, irrespective of how I feel, because it's something I believe in at the moment.

So next time when someone asks me how I feel about it? My answer is going to be, "It doesn't really matter how I feel now. I'll know how I truly feel once I'm there anyway"