My excentricity might have increased during this months I spent in England. I might be just stimulating myself with the thought that I'm weirder now, but I might not. I think I have become wilder, more ruthless; one could say in simple terms "an epic mess." The moment I walked around Soho at midnight wearing a silly rabbit mask and knew that nobody gave a shit, I realized that well, hmmm, I might be too comfortable in here.
I have complained about London a great deal, I know, but I don't think I've taken the time to highlight how I love the freedom in here. My Skins-fan friends remember that mini episode of the first season in which the guys throw a party in the forest. Well, I have to say it happens like that out there. English people lose it when they drink, and the atmosphere they create invites you to let yourself loose too. The chanting, the dirty dancing, the jumping, the costumes, masks,more drinks -- Had I mentioned how I absolutely love that? Not to mention the fact that you're entitled to be yourself and accentuate your particularities (read also oddities) as much as you freaking want.
Now, as suited as I feel having coke and cigarettes for breakfast and spending ridiculous amounts of money for a night out (that last line could be read as sarcasm,) my unconscious is fixated with making me aware of the fact that this lifestyle is about to end. I've dreamt of going back home three times already. The dream keeps changing in setting, time , time of the day, people welcoming me and the rest, though three features remain the same:
1.My mom and sister are alway there.
2. The happiness, although overwhelming, lasts very little.
3. Towards the end of the dream, I'm always anxious to catch a plane back to go back to London, "where I live."
I should have read Cinderella instead of that anthology of Psychology that time, but I now I can't help to try to analize myself and decipher whatever the unconcious is telling me. While awake, I day dream of my friends, the beaches, the simple life of Costa Rica, but it seems that while asleep, when my defenses are down, my psyche dictates differently. That's confusing and arises many questions. Am I no longer fit for a society with more rules when it comes to public behavior? Have I finally become a helpless libertine? Lots of pointless introspection in here, but the thought of not coping with my country when I go back is plain scary. I was warned about the existence of the phenomenon of re-entry shock, but I laugh at that. "Pfff, me not adapting back..." However, the last times I've skyped with my family, a certain tension has settled in, like I'm a stranger, like I'm no longer welcome to come back. I just didn't know it was going to be that distressing.
In less than 50 days, I'll be back in Costa Rica and will discover how upside down the world would look. Am I too weird to go back? Only time will tell.
