Wrote this in the Strowis Hostel…
I’m empty. At least thats what it feels like. It feels empty. I feel like I have no one. Misunderstood. All here for the same reason, but under a different branch. I’m not like the rest and for me thats a good thing, however, it’s a lonely feel. I feel like everything around me is surface and too good to be true.
I honestly miss school and my friends back at home. I miss being able to walk into FIJI to just cry. I miss the camp I worked at this summer. I may just be a little homesick. I wish there were more people like me in this program. I got to meet two new cool individuals staying at the hostel, but thats it. Don’t get me wrong, the people that I am with are amazing, they just don’t understand me. I can’t stop thinking about what people at DePauw are doing. I wonder what James Wells is teaching and what Bruggemann is up to. I know this experience is going to be an amazing one, but its hard. It just is.
This summer I learned how to live in the present. I learned how to live in the present by an eight year old little boy Shawn. He was staring out a window for a while on our bus ride home from the sleepaway camp we both spent time at this summer and I asked him what he was thinking about. He stopped and looked at me and he said, “the trees.” I asked him if he ever thinks ahead, too much in the future. He answered, “Yes.” I asked him if it scared him and he said, “No, because I only think about the positive.” I took a good three minutes to myself, I was inspired. I then asked him about the trees, “What about those trees are you thinking about?” His answer was my favorite… “They…are… all…different, Aislee.”
I fell in love then. I miss people who aren’t afraid to tell their story. People who have a good story. What is a good story? I don’t even know.
No one chose to sit next to me right now. I guess I’m scary. It doesn’t make me feel bad, just different. Im sitting in the living room of this hostel. It is 21:20PM and I could not be any more lonely than I am now. Its a nice hostel, a lot of candle lit tables with people drinking beer and reading books. The hostel has a nice garden, where I spent my nights listening to the two new Frank Ocean albums and smoking my sorrows away. Its not healthy, but its working. The workers here are nice genuine tatted (Tattooed) individuals, very hipster.
I am extremely privileged to be here, I know that.However, I’m also not.
I wonder how my sisters are doing. I hear our cat passed away. What a bunch of sad news.
Yo I don’t fucking know anymore. Hopefully things pick up and I feel a little better. Im in a beautiful place, but again a place is just a place… its really the people that make it.