This strange trip is drawing to a close. It has been miserable, sweet, magical , and then really difficult.
This last week was completely too much, though. I shouldn't have added the third week. The work was hard, I hardly got more than 3 and 4 hours a night to sleep, and most of that time I spent tossing and turning in bed.
No rest. Restlessness. That's a word, right? Restlessness. Looks funny on the screen.
The country said goodbye in a kind way though:
I just started reading one of my favorite books again. I haven't picked it up in years, but it somehow got thrusted into my hands now. That seems to be a recurring theme these days. Early on in the book, a inebriated man is introduced somehow like this: His eyes burned wildly and immorally. That's what I feel like right now. Wild, burning, strangely immoral, and also drunk, from lack of sleep.
Maybe my morals are just sedated. I am at the airport, and moving alone through the crowds here, with my iPod blaring in my ears, is somehow really impersonal. Devoid of humanity. I always feel most alone when I am moving through hordes of people by myself. No hand in my hand. No voice in my ear. Nobody by my side.
I may be lost, but still I know where I am going. I am going to a safe place. Somewhere where I will be looked after. Where I am needed. And wanted. Where I can do good. And be good.