Things have gotten better, but I still feel trapped here. I've read a book a week since I returned from France, and this has proven to be very therapeutic. I find myself being very irritable lately, so I tend to keep my mouth shut. I don't want to anger anyone. I'm thinking about seeing a therapist. I need to go back to France. People continue to make their judgments, say nasty things, but they don't know anything. You've never lived there. You don't know what it's like.
This post is a convoluted mess, but I don't care. I'm going to the Bahamas in two days. Perfect. I need a vacation from my vacation.
Tuesday, June 28, 2011
Sunday, June 19, 2011
A Daily Dose
I apologize that the last few blogs have been rather depressing. But I am a writer and this is how I choose to express myself, so maybe I'm not sorry.
Thursday night I had a mental breakdown in the beer aisle at Walmart. Dylan escorted me out to my car, where we had a little chat.
As I've mentioned, I've felt depressed since I returned home. I feel that people don't quite understand me here, and some are too selfish to recognize I'm upset. I'm made to feel that I (who traveled Europe for five months and learned a second language) was the one who missed out last semester, because they tell me all the people they met and parties they've had. I am not jealous. I drank beer in Belgium and sipped wine and champagne in France, but people demean me. They make my successes seem less impressive, and I've cried almost everyday I've been home. Nobody knows how I feel except for Dylan, who's seen me spontaneously burst into tears, and Leah, who takes me out to tea weekly.
Friday night, he and I split a bottle of wine and talked about religion, toe-sucking, and broken families until 3 AM. We had seen Midnight in Paris that night at the Fine Arts Theatre and were feeling a little nostalgic, so I broke out some cheese and we sat on the patio.
Saturday, he left for his camp. He'd be gone five days. No biggie. The power had gone out in my apartment and I would be alone. When he left, I sobbed and locked myself in the bathroom. I cried by candlelight, but I could hear my boyfriend standing outside the door waiting for his girlfriend to come to. I don't know what's wrong with me. Everyday I remind myself that I'm an incredible person, but people here make me feel otherwise. I'm trying to stay strong and I've prescribed myself a daily dose of herbal tea and classic literature. It helps.
Thursday night I had a mental breakdown in the beer aisle at Walmart. Dylan escorted me out to my car, where we had a little chat.
As I've mentioned, I've felt depressed since I returned home. I feel that people don't quite understand me here, and some are too selfish to recognize I'm upset. I'm made to feel that I (who traveled Europe for five months and learned a second language) was the one who missed out last semester, because they tell me all the people they met and parties they've had. I am not jealous. I drank beer in Belgium and sipped wine and champagne in France, but people demean me. They make my successes seem less impressive, and I've cried almost everyday I've been home. Nobody knows how I feel except for Dylan, who's seen me spontaneously burst into tears, and Leah, who takes me out to tea weekly.
Friday night, he and I split a bottle of wine and talked about religion, toe-sucking, and broken families until 3 AM. We had seen Midnight in Paris that night at the Fine Arts Theatre and were feeling a little nostalgic, so I broke out some cheese and we sat on the patio.
Saturday, he left for his camp. He'd be gone five days. No biggie. The power had gone out in my apartment and I would be alone. When he left, I sobbed and locked myself in the bathroom. I cried by candlelight, but I could hear my boyfriend standing outside the door waiting for his girlfriend to come to. I don't know what's wrong with me. Everyday I remind myself that I'm an incredible person, but people here make me feel otherwise. I'm trying to stay strong and I've prescribed myself a daily dose of herbal tea and classic literature. It helps.
Tuesday, June 14, 2011
Tea
Okay, so I got super fucked up last night and woke up with a red wine/coconut vodka hangover after falling down a flight of stairs and ending up at Waffle House at 2 AM. Yesterday I was super depressed because Asheville felt foreign to me. Everything had changed and I felt distant from my once-close friends. I'm left out of plans since I'm not twenty-one, and I'm lonely. I miss France and am not adapting well to America. It's all just a part of culture shock, I suppose, but things are better now.
Leah, who visited me in Bordeaux, took me to a tea cafe downtown called Dobra's. It reminded me of why I love this city so much. The cafe was dark with a Moroccan theme and there was a lounge in the back where you could remove your shoes and sit on the floor. Being a newly-proclaimed tea addict, I loved the place.
Leah and I talked for almost two hours and I started to feel better about being home. She studied abroad in London so she understands that it's difficult to become adjusted to American university life again. And, more importantly, she understands the importance of the cafe culture. This is one of my favorite things about France. They take time out of their schedules to waste time in cafes with their friends. It's good for the soul. And after our chat, I felt so much better. I really am French in the sense that when I don't have my cafe/bff time, I get depressed.
Now I'm waiting for Michelle to come home so we can eat dinner together and catch up. I'm starting to fall back in love with Asheville, it's just a strange adjustment.
Leah, who visited me in Bordeaux, took me to a tea cafe downtown called Dobra's. It reminded me of why I love this city so much. The cafe was dark with a Moroccan theme and there was a lounge in the back where you could remove your shoes and sit on the floor. Being a newly-proclaimed tea addict, I loved the place.
Leah and I talked for almost two hours and I started to feel better about being home. She studied abroad in London so she understands that it's difficult to become adjusted to American university life again. And, more importantly, she understands the importance of the cafe culture. This is one of my favorite things about France. They take time out of their schedules to waste time in cafes with their friends. It's good for the soul. And after our chat, I felt so much better. I really am French in the sense that when I don't have my cafe/bff time, I get depressed.
Now I'm waiting for Michelle to come home so we can eat dinner together and catch up. I'm starting to fall back in love with Asheville, it's just a strange adjustment.
Sunday, June 12, 2011
The Loneliest Country on Earth
I guess it's about time to get back to this. My French blog is finished, and I must admit that it was easier to write when I had a large audience.
I've been home for about a week now and I'm feeling lonely. No one is ever at home anymore. My dad has a new girlfriend and he spends most of his day with her. My brother and sister have their friends, but I am alone in the mountains. I'm heading up to Asheville tomorrow because I can't stand to be here in this empty house. Though my roommates have class until 4 everyday, I can look forward to talking to them after that. Dylan's in Atlanta, so I won't see him until Thursday afternoon.
Today I reinstated my vegetarianism and self-deprivation tactics in a vain attempt to feel beautiful. Such a futile cause.
Sometimes I really hate this place. The culture here is so cold, so individualistic. I'm constantly being pushed out of restaurants, rushed to the next errand or chore, because time is money and money is time and we all have to get ahead. Jesus, doesn't anybody live anymore?
I've been home for about a week now and I'm feeling lonely. No one is ever at home anymore. My dad has a new girlfriend and he spends most of his day with her. My brother and sister have their friends, but I am alone in the mountains. I'm heading up to Asheville tomorrow because I can't stand to be here in this empty house. Though my roommates have class until 4 everyday, I can look forward to talking to them after that. Dylan's in Atlanta, so I won't see him until Thursday afternoon.
Today I reinstated my vegetarianism and self-deprivation tactics in a vain attempt to feel beautiful. Such a futile cause.
Sometimes I really hate this place. The culture here is so cold, so individualistic. I'm constantly being pushed out of restaurants, rushed to the next errand or chore, because time is money and money is time and we all have to get ahead. Jesus, doesn't anybody live anymore?
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