I am still here. Still in the Magical Kingdom of Bahrain. I am waiting for it to seep in.
It will take sometime but I know, I will understand what and why I did what I did one day.
It's not just that I couldn't wake up. I couldn't get myself out of bed. I couldn't face the drive to Muharraq. I couldn't stomach checking out at the Masala Airport of Bahrain. And there is no way I would have been able to kill time in that cheesy lounge or in that Duty Free of yesteryear. And the plane ride. The plane ride? What do I have to say about that? I would've drawn the attention of the cabin crew, who would have requested the pilot to issue a restraining order or something like that and shssssssssssssssh ... please don't ask me why, for I have no answer for my irrational behaviour and my unchecked anger and my silly stream of thought.
As much as I wanted to get the hell out of here, don't ask me why I just couldn't bring myself to pack and hop into a plane and go off somewhere else to recharge my batteries and return back to this miserable place called Home Sweet Home.
I don't know whether I know or I am being silly and pretending not to know.
The truth of the matter is that I am fed up of lying to myself about this and that. The truth of the matter is what is the point of going off somewhere else and having a good time only to come back here to where the crow croaks or caws or whatever else crows are allowed to do here.
I have this growing feeling inside me of packing up and leaving and ... not coming back ever again. It's growing on me so much that frankly speaking, the only reason I didn't leave yesterday was because I knew inside me that had I left, I wouldn't have ever come back again.
1. My responsibility?
2. My family?
3. My job?
4. My home?
Yes, tough questions. Here are my answers:
1. My sanity? My responsibility should be a little towards myself. I need to ensure that I protect myself from the insanity of being in Bahrain and caring so much for it could bring me.
2. My family could visit me.. who said they are banned from travelling? And I swear, I will not tell anyone I am subjecting myself to self-exile.
3. Who said I am not skilled enough to find a job in my line of business anywhere else? In fact, I would be more respected and better paid.
4. A home is where you should feel comfortable enough you can relax and take a shit.
A home is where you feel secure and where you know you belong. A home is where you feel like a human being.
A home is not bricks and mortar and furniture and roads and high-rises and hotels and prostitutes and cheap tourists and thieving officials and a corrupt police force and judiciary.
A HOME SHOULDN'T BE ANOTHER LIE.
It will take sometime but I know, I will understand what and why I did what I did one day.
It's not just that I couldn't wake up. I couldn't get myself out of bed. I couldn't face the drive to Muharraq. I couldn't stomach checking out at the Masala Airport of Bahrain. And there is no way I would have been able to kill time in that cheesy lounge or in that Duty Free of yesteryear. And the plane ride. The plane ride? What do I have to say about that? I would've drawn the attention of the cabin crew, who would have requested the pilot to issue a restraining order or something like that and shssssssssssssssh ... please don't ask me why, for I have no answer for my irrational behaviour and my unchecked anger and my silly stream of thought.
As much as I wanted to get the hell out of here, don't ask me why I just couldn't bring myself to pack and hop into a plane and go off somewhere else to recharge my batteries and return back to this miserable place called Home Sweet Home.
I don't know whether I know or I am being silly and pretending not to know.
The truth of the matter is that I am fed up of lying to myself about this and that. The truth of the matter is what is the point of going off somewhere else and having a good time only to come back here to where the crow croaks or caws or whatever else crows are allowed to do here.
I have this growing feeling inside me of packing up and leaving and ... not coming back ever again. It's growing on me so much that frankly speaking, the only reason I didn't leave yesterday was because I knew inside me that had I left, I wouldn't have ever come back again.
1. My responsibility?
2. My family?
3. My job?
4. My home?
Yes, tough questions. Here are my answers:
1. My sanity? My responsibility should be a little towards myself. I need to ensure that I protect myself from the insanity of being in Bahrain and caring so much for it could bring me.
2. My family could visit me.. who said they are banned from travelling? And I swear, I will not tell anyone I am subjecting myself to self-exile.
3. Who said I am not skilled enough to find a job in my line of business anywhere else? In fact, I would be more respected and better paid.
4. A home is where you should feel comfortable enough you can relax and take a shit.
A home is where you feel secure and where you know you belong. A home is where you feel like a human being.
A home is not bricks and mortar and furniture and roads and high-rises and hotels and prostitutes and cheap tourists and thieving officials and a corrupt police force and judiciary.
A HOME SHOULDN'T BE ANOTHER LIE.
3 comments:
SBG,
If I can just add. Home is where you feel you are respected, where your dignity is not trodden on, where you feel you work with the leadership to build a country, where you are not marginalised, where there are equal opportunities for all, where there is equality in income distribution.... i could go on...
maybe u need a career break...get a placement abroad for a year or two... a chance to clear your head...
don't let it get to you woman
Yup, what Bahrainia said. You sound like you're burning out. Time to stop and breath. What is a burnt out candle but drops of wax hardening on a tabletop?
Thanks cyberpals...
I will hang in there for as long as HE wants me to !
See you around ;)
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