a kind of dreamlike gratitude for the escape
Dear the internet:
Tomorrow is the ten-year anniversary of moving to London. I have all kinds of feelings about this, but I've noticed that when I express positive emotions people don't like it very much, so I shall instead limit myself to reminding you that for the love of a city exists, and that I am still overwhelmed with love at this wonderful place. I try not to make "this is why London is awesome" posts because then there's the endless "how is that different to anywhere else" and good god, it would be nice to be able to like a thing without having to constantly defend the damn thing. This ain't an academic paper.
Today I was paid to do nothing, so I surfed the internet and wrote fanfic and discussed awkward sex dreams and tried to conduct an interview with a helpful lady via emails which ... is ... ongoing due to my paralysing terribleness at polite interaction with strangers.
My ear is swollen and it hurts, and my uterus is throwing a tantrum and that hurts, and my sleep patterns are now such that I never get to speak to people, and that blows on a whole new level, and a lot of people I used to speak to just don't have anything to do with me any more, and I don't feel remotely interesting or attractive or human, and that stinks too. It's a bit like I'm waiting for someone to tell me off for talking, but at the same time also like if I say anything no one will hear me anyway? Exciting!
But I have spent a little while feeling that old familiar "everything is taking place far away and you are not connected to anything" sensation, which is a pain and also unfathomable when it covers over my brain and I'm in the middle of the city surrounded by millions of people leaning on me and breathing at me and it doesn't even produce the normal wrinkle of disgust because I might as well not be here at all.
Tomorrow is the ten-year anniversary of moving to London. I have all kinds of feelings about this, but I've noticed that when I express positive emotions people don't like it very much, so I shall instead limit myself to reminding you that for the love of a city exists, and that I am still overwhelmed with love at this wonderful place. I try not to make "this is why London is awesome" posts because then there's the endless "how is that different to anywhere else" and good god, it would be nice to be able to like a thing without having to constantly defend the damn thing. This ain't an academic paper.
Today I was paid to do nothing, so I surfed the internet and wrote fanfic and discussed awkward sex dreams and tried to conduct an interview with a helpful lady via emails which ... is ... ongoing due to my paralysing terribleness at polite interaction with strangers.
My ear is swollen and it hurts, and my uterus is throwing a tantrum and that hurts, and my sleep patterns are now such that I never get to speak to people, and that blows on a whole new level, and a lot of people I used to speak to just don't have anything to do with me any more, and I don't feel remotely interesting or attractive or human, and that stinks too. It's a bit like I'm waiting for someone to tell me off for talking, but at the same time also like if I say anything no one will hear me anyway? Exciting!
But I have spent a little while feeling that old familiar "everything is taking place far away and you are not connected to anything" sensation, which is a pain and also unfathomable when it covers over my brain and I'm in the middle of the city surrounded by millions of people leaning on me and breathing at me and it doesn't even produce the normal wrinkle of disgust because I might as well not be here at all.