People keep asking me about what I’m going to do when I come back from travelling. They ask me:
So, what are you going to do when you come back?
So, will you live in London again when you come back?
Frankly, the thought of coming back scares the hell out of me. Reality. The real world. I hate it. I don’t know how to deal with it. Why can there not be an instruction manual on how to ‘do’ life? If you have one, can I borrow it?
I don’t know how to do it and I’ve never been very good at it to be honest.
If I could just switch myself off like I computer game, I would. Which is a pretty abnormal thought to have. I remember hearing the song “Bohemian Rhapsody” by Queen when I was a kid (probably about 10 years old?), and the lyric “I sometimes wish I’d never been born at all” and thinking, wow yeah that would have been great.
I hated school as a child growing up. All of it. Every day. I felt like I had the weight of the world on my shoulders. Struggled making friends. Low confidence. No self-esteem. Pretty average intelligence wise.
But even then I was like, ah I can’t be bothered with this. What’s the point? It’s so much hassle. But every day I just had to get through it. Put one foot in front of the other and just plough on through it in the hope that there my be some light at the end of the tunnel.
And now, here I am, seven weeks before my 30th birthday and although the circumstances have changed, I’m still that same little boy. Plodding on reluctantly. Everything is hassle. Everything is a headache and a massive effort.
Trying to find purpose and reason in doing anything when if someone came up to me and said, if you don’t fancy this life any more, press this button and you can do something else. Be someone else. Leave all this behind. You won’t be you any more. Well, I’d be over the moon.
Another thing people have asked me is what I’m doing for my 30th birthday. The reality is nothing. I don’t want to do anything. I hate being the centre of attention. I hate having the focus or spotlight on me. It makes me very uncomfortable.
Other people’s birthdays, wedding and whatever else I am more than happy to attend. But I don’t want to organise or host or arrange anything. The only thing I’d feel comfortable with is going to the pub with friends. That’s it. Something simple. Basic.
The idea of a cake and balloons and candles and cards and presents is not for me. If I have to do something just to appease other people, then so be it. They might think it’s really weird if I don’t.
Maybe this is just a darker moment, who knows. Maybe I will change my mind. It’s not like I don’t want to have a meal and/or drinks with my friends, it’s just that I don’t want to be any kind of focal point.
Honestly, I’d feel like I was putting them out. I don’t like the idea of people, even friends, making any kind of extra effort just for me. Like it’s not worth their while or something.
So, back to my original question, when my next bout of escapism ends, what then? It’d be so nice to escape forever. Permanent escapism.
I haven’t got the strength for the other option. My problem with school was constantly being told what to do and now that I have no one telling me what to do, I don’t know what to do – in the most general sense imaginable.
How messed up is that?