You know that one, already famous saying This entire year felt like being awake during anaesthesia? Well, six months in, and I already had a lobotomy sans anaesthesia. I used to firmly believe that there are years that ask questions and years that answer, but as the years are passing by, I have more questions than answers.

I feel like my whole life has been one major opposition. Two sides of me pulling in their own directions. One side that is so introverted and focused, and the other that would sell every cell in the body just to experience something. Forever thorn between appreciating things and people in my life and terrified of losing them and being painfully aware of the ending, because everything does end. I don’t know if I can combine these two ends into one. If you could split me in two, you would be able to see the opposition tearing me apart. I don’t know if other people experience it, nobody really talks about the internal processes much. I observe people a lot, they just go on about their lives, working, raising families with their partner, buying houses, cars, going on vacation. And it always strikes me; you don’t mind all of that? You actually enjoy it and think that is the best possible life you could live, and I mean this in the nicest way possible. Because what do you mean you don’t melt into existential crisis every 3 months? You don’t question your existence, ever? I am jealous, because my brain could never.

What also adds to my above-mentioned internal complex net is the fact that I have travelled so much that I no longer know when and if I will ever belong to any place. I carry all these places in my soul, but is there really a place for me somewhere, in some corner of this world? We will find out one day, but until then, I don’t think I will ever get rid of this feeling of not belonging. I was born with it. I carry it everywhere. I tried finding it in other people, wrong people, toxic and mean people. I tried finding it in places and it felt like I belong to each and every place I visited in one way or another. And being pulled elsewhere, somewhere where it’s not your own country is a blessing and a curse. It causes me a great amount of pain; I can physically feel the pain of that calling. It’s getting louder lately.

I’m not sure if I will ever feel at home anywhere. I know that they say that you should make a home within yourself and I agree, but I guess a lot of people identify with certain areas and groups, and they never wonder why or how. Whereas those questions have been plaguing me since I became a conscious being. There are days I wish I didn’t have this kind of wondering. Wish I was less sharp, less observant, less intense. You see, what makes me different, is also making me feel like an alien. An outsider. I say I’m from a certain country, I speak like them, I understand their culture, but I’m not from there. I can’t connect to anything. I just float around trying to find my place. And I never do.

I have one tattoo idea that speaks to me and it says: Too alien for Earth; too human for outer space. And nothing ever sat right with me more than that.