I ____ London
PART I - She's back - 30th August
I cried on the Overground on the eve of my return, trying to disappear into myself and holding my breath before the train got to Forest Hill. 3 strangers helped me that night with my suitcase, one man at Croydon, one boy at Norwood Junction and one girl at Brockley. When I got to Vesta road, the lugging around and the humid thick air got too much, so I had another girl-in-mid-twenties cry mid-way through my walk home.
No one was in, which was actually quite nice, nothing overwhelming. Maia arrived minutes later, I showered and we headed down to Skeehan's, which, on a Saturday evening was unsurprisingly very overwhelming. Full of students and Michael Jackson songs playing on repeat as me and Maia updated each other on our lives. With no dinner in me and 2 pints deep, I slumped deeper into a pool of self-pitiful fear and insecurity about being back whilst looking at all the 6 pound buying lads and ladettes speaking one language and everyone looking quite the same.
I was calm the next morning, excited at seeing friends I've missed dearly and the few busy days ahead of meet-ups. Having plans helps an awful lot, on top of knowing your life is actually quite alright and in fact exciting.\
Let's talk about the removal then shall we.
PART II - Ponderings on the return - 1st July 2026
At some point the suffering has run its course, it stops being useful with its natural expiration date.
London town, my birthplace. A place that I never called home until I moved there last summer, and to even call it home now doesn't ring true.
The SE4 postcode, and the one's surrounding it are inextricably linked with someone who decided to remove themselves from my life.
Can I reclaim that which was never mine?
People have moved countries because of a break-up, let's start anew, a-fresh, ACHOO!
Do I pick up my trait again of moving constantly? An unintentional worldly cosmopolitan who momentarily departs by scanning my passport elsewhere.
I fear coming back to my stripped room. Atomic imprints of us will be sprayed onto my walls, the streets & shops too. I've done this with the same person before, but that was a time that was less intense, less sticky. I do however remember fearing bumping into them every time I stepped my foot on my bike's pedestal or into a pub, cafe, bar, always feeling like a fearful little bug.
I've ghosted people before, I've stopped being friends or lovers of my own volition. The heart was never there, and if it was, it soured and became numb. This is a premiere however (there was a short film that had a mini run last February, lasted a few weeks), the heart and body still red hot. As the Czech saying goes, it's like someone threw all my toys in the canal.
What good is it to analyse why things happen, but what good it is to just detach, because how boring is that?