home world

So today it's finally hit me, that sadness I  was waiting for since I landed. I guess up until now I was busy being amazed at the strangeness of this and get lagged, but today, finally, after my first good night of sleep, that knowladge that the word "home" will never mean the same thing for me. That connection to the self, of old and new and my collied into that horrible empty feeling of being a looser finally hit home.

What will I remember from this trip? I think, crossing from Yahuda ha'Levi st. to Rotchild via Ha'hasmonaim.  Not the wonderful meeting with friends and that connection of love with people who, though I haven't seen in over a year, feels as close as ever. Not the beauty of Tel Aviv, my beloved city, not spending time with my sister. what I'll remember, I think, is those dead hours, like now, walking aimlessly from one place to the other, too slow and my back killing me from lagging this heavy lap top around and having no phone so, basically, communication, both technically and emotionally is just too damn hard.

I feel so fucking homeless, and it's so strange how the practicality of not having my own apartment here, collide with the notion of multiple citizenships and immigrant mentality in one of those super obvious cheesy metaphors that only exist in movies or books and never happened in real life, cause real life is so much more intricate and less tidy, and so much more beautiful. Fractal, not calculus. And the only reason, I think about hat now, I know, is cause philosophical masturbation about the nature of life is fucking easier then feeling what I'm feeling.

So I'm trying to go to get a new ID card cause my old one is at my parents and I rather deal with strangers officials right now then call my dad. And I know what it takes cause I've done it before and also checked in their website, a 100 Shekels, a passport and photos, and I know I can get those photos over there, so I walk, they close at noon and it's already 10:30, so though I walk slow, I can still make it. It's hot outside, and I'm listening to "American Gods" my all time favorite book for traveling. Shadow's walking around in the snow looking for Alison's Body and talking to the people of Lakeside in a bar. I'm sweaty and eventually, I get there, only to have the clearest image of the passport laying snugly in my other bag back in my sister's apartment. 

So I don't know what to do and I sit on the stairs leading to the building and deciding there isn't much to do.

I walk some more, in the headphones, The story of the African twins coming as slaves to America, I sit in a cafe that was redecorated and feels all different now, and that, more then anything, makes me feel like a stranger. I think of different layers of memory, of how I used to go there when I was living in the neighborhood and later on, though living elsewhere, going there cause it was near the movie theater or yoga.

I eat breakfast and write him an e-mail, and I feel guilty for not talking to him last night, and I feel guilty for not calling my grandparents even though I told them I'll come visit yesterday and didn't and I feel bad for messing up the ID thing and not calling my aunts yet and not really doing anything I needed to take care of yet, and I feel bad about taking room in my sister's house and messing up her life.

I get out and go to the medical center, I'm already there, so I think I'll take care of some medical stuff, but the DR is not in and the secretary looks at me with an angry "how did you NOT know that" look. So I leave and I walk around some more and I'm tired, so I decide to go to the the DR but she only start working at 4:30. I walk into the bank but again, can't manage to make what I want happened Everyone's being helpful but I just can't manage ot help myself.

Old old old behavior, old feeling that I thought were gone by now, the fear and isolation magnified by misuse.

I miss the way he balance me and makes me eat and sleep and drink water. I feel like without him I fall deep into the pit of myself, back into the kasem of fear and emptiness. And I hate not being able to balance myself, I know that my own courage, my own competent is in the bottom of that pit, after all that desert of fear had been crossed, and I hate that I feel so scared, so exposed on my own.

It's just too much like myself.