Half a wing broken and all that.

Hi, it's me again. And I'm writing this on the train, as I'm on my way to Penn Station, New York. [Editor's note: Yeah, I'm publishing this a lot later.]

Okay so I guess I conked out a little in my previous post.

At this point you must be flailing your arms going, "A little?! A little?!?"

Okay a lot. I conked out a lot. I was all over the place, and everything just kinda merged into one towards the end of the post. My anger displaced, the enemy obscured and my sanity somewhat in pieces.

Writing this from a (relatively) happier perspective, I can see things (relatively) clearer now. I guess things were going way too well for me in this new home of mine. I mean, I'm adjusting well, I'm not missing the food too much and at any rate I haven't completely broken down yet, crying for my mom.

And so I proudly boast to everyone that I don't feel the least bit homesick, and that I'm doing perfectly fine here, and hey look at me I'm better than everyone else.

But now I've realized this: if I've never left home in my life - let alone 36 hours away - how would I know how homesickness feels like? How would I have known even if it hits me in the face? Would I have recognized it for homesickness, or just shrug it off as another form of depression in my day-to-day life?

And I think this is homesickness coming to me in the strangest form ever. It's not bad enough to completely debilitate me - the most it'll do is disrupt my daily functions, annoying at most - and so shrug it off, I did.

When the going is good, I don't notice it lurking in the corner, bubbling under the surface, manifesting in the cracks. It's when there's a slight tweak in my grand master plan, that's when it makes its presence felt, like a wound that has been left to fester in the open. It only gets worse.

And then I start having thoughts like:

"WHEN I GO HOME THIS CHRISTMAS, I SHAN'T RETURN."

"THIS IS A SHITHOLE A HELLHOLE GET ME OUT OF HEREEEE."

"FUCK THIS COUNTRY FUCK YOU ALL."

Except not even that eloquently phrased in my head. On Facebook statuses and Twitter updates, sure. But in my head it's all just a jumble of confusion, anger and vulgarity.

I used to think that homesickness just meant pining for your family and friends, spasming at the thought of Asian food and breaking down completely, crying for your mom.

But now I realize that homesickness can also come in the form of frustration at American politics and its people, realizing how much of a role family has played in soothing your frazzled nerves, something you were never away long enough to see the effects of, and just being angry and depressed at everything
(like a Cheerios cereal box, or walmart), despite life going really well for you (and despite the fact that you really like Cheerios and Walmart).

I am at the weakest point in my life so far (more to come, no worries); I feel like I'm a shadow of the person I used to be.

To be honest, at this point, I have no grand master plan to fix this. I really don't. I guess grand master plans can only be made in times of joy.

I really do feel that despite being strong and happy on the outside, I'm slowly dying on the inside. Even as I type this. Even as I'm starting the process of healing, even if I'll soon get what I want, even when I know I can fix this.

Some things, when unleashed, just refuse to back down.

[EN: Now back to the present.]

Don't worry, I'm almost done. The whining will stop soon. I'm glad I saved the last part for now, so I can write in retrospect and sound less whiny.

When I was writing the above, I remember thinking, "Shit. I'm going down." And it was true. I did feel like I was going down, and even now when things are all fine and dandy, I still remember how it felt.

I also remember feeling, for the first time, like I needed someone. I would have taken anyone. In this little movie I'm playing in my head I keep seeing a little wounded sparrow by the road - you know, half a wing broken and all that.

Considering before the movie was usually a montage of my awesome one nights to some awesome soundtrack, and now it is the sob story of a woodland creature, I say it's quite a big change.

Sigh. Do I need someone now that I feel better? I don't know. Would I merely be using that person to pick myself up again? Definitely. Wouldn't that be wrong? Possibly.

Anyway, I gotta go. I've got a life to lead.