(Written on my phone, in the dark of night. Caravan Palace plays in the background and in the foreground. Sleep is nought but a foreigner.)
On the drive home from Calgary, it is 11:33 pm Alberta time, 10:30 pm Vancouver time, 1:33 pm Brunei time. It is Jordan driving, Cameron at the helm of music in the passenger seat, Shaya electric sliding as much as she can in the back next to me. Nothing but evergreen trees and the Rockies stand attention as we make our way back home. It is dark enough that there are more crystallized stars than I have ever seen in the cities I’ve ever been. It is dark enough that if didn’t know better I could be back home in Hilmi’s car driving down familiar old highways. It is dark enough that the oncoming future is nothing but blinding.
Disclaimer: This might not be one of the best, most cleverly eloquent pieces of writing I’ve ever done but it is 2:39 in the morning, I am emotionally bedraggled running on a mere six hours of rest after returning home at dawn today from east of Canada, I am struggling to carry the weight of my eyelids.. but this I need out of my system.
Calgary. Calgary has changed my life.
Before the roadtrip, I was pathetic. Maybe not as bad as I make it sound, but I was pathetic compared to whom I was before I left home. Home as in Brunei Darussalam, Abode of Peace. Home as in everyone I ever knew and loved and cared about and shared every single painfully beautiful memory with. Home as in where I’d left the better part of my heart, and the better part of my soul. Home as in where my one in particular lies on his bed, thinking of me, loving me, nowhere near me.
For so long I had shut people out because I truly did not care for loving people ever again. After forging relationships of insurmountable greatness and love my entire life, and having to leave every single one of them behind, I was fresh out of love. I was exhausted. I was done. I didn’t want to leave or be left behind by anyone I ever loved again. I just couldn’t put myself through that again. So why bother meeting new people? Why bother making friends? Why bother loving and caring for other human beings when in the end, no matter what, circumstances have them leave you or you leaving them?
People I called my friends; I didn’t love them as much as they loved me. I was irritated all the time, I was annoyed ever so easily by people who called me their “friend”. I invested myself in no one, I resented everything that I could. I was wary of being too close to anyone; to let anybody in and for the longest time I hated everything that Vancouver offered. Its food, its people, its lifestyle. Stupid fucking bullshit rain.
I was a horrible person. It wasn’t more that I was actively hurting people, only that I was indifferent and apathetic to their regard. I didn’t care, I didn’t give a shit. I hung out with people without really being there at all. I didn’t bother, absolutely refused building new bridges only for fear that I’d never cross the ones that take me home ever again because I had something new and shiny.
But Calgary has changed that awful, piteous human being inside of me. I am so full of live, of love, of happiness that I want nothing to do but share it with every human being I meet. How could I think that I had ever run out of love? Love is a renewable resource. Create some and it only just multiplies. For so long, I had forgotten who I was, what I was capable of. Of melding relationships that lasted lifetimes, of providing counsel and hope to those who needed it, to influencing people to become better than they were. For two entire years, I had built up a castle wall and locked myself in, and although I knew it was poison, I flourished in it. For two entire years, I was indifferent to getting to know people and learning about them and loving them for all their stupid perfections and wonderful imperfections. For two entire years, I had let my insides decompose; the inside of my mind, my heart, my body—nothing but a hollow husk of whom I was. For two entire years, I believed the best days of my life were nothing but reflected images on the rear view mirror, never to catch up with me. I’ve wasted so much of my time being angry and filled with resentment; I have wasted too much time not being who I really was.
But here I am and I am ready to be me again. I’m back but I am so much more than that now. I’ve returned with much more life than ever before. I am Chelsea, again. And it feels so amazing to be back.