I’m in Spain, in the south, in an area I love. I am writing and walking and talking Spanish to local people in worker’s bars and cafes.
But, and there is a huge but – I feel every minute of every day this wash of emotion come over like a tsunami.
This is my selfie face but inside I am full of love and hate and anxiety and calm and worry and self-hatred and regret and pain and joy and guilt and fear and desire. Sometimes I don’t know what I am doing here, sometimes I feel like some sort of fraud, sometimes I wonder what everything means, sometimes I can’t bear any of it. Sometimes I want to throw myself off a mountain (and there are plenty of mountains to throw myself off here).
We are all so complicated. If I wrote out my current situation or status on a postcard with a pretty picture of Andalucia, I could say in true classic form – ‘wish you were here, having a lovely time’, it would be true, but underneath the joy at being here I feel that nothing ever changes, that we are all slaves in this world, that everywhere you look there are monuments to division and problems and the pace of change is too fast, too damned fast. I feel we are being sold a lie.
Climb the hills in the Cabo de Gata – where I am – and you know that nature is not a lie and that the only realness left in this world is composed of love, nature, and real human conversation. But who cares? Who cares anymore? I feel no one cares.
Feelings are omnipresent in all people but we must not let them overwhelm us. So I give my little speech to the world, but don’t know how to take my own advice.
I know that feelings and emotions are like the weather; everything passes. Stormy days turn into starry nights; rain disappears and the sun shines again.
I am lucky to be alive.