Of A Long Way Home

So, I feel like it’s probably been almost a month since my last post. It is quite possible that it hasn’t actually been so long, but it sure feels like it, because so much has happened.

I went back home. Yes. Finally, the big change I was anticipating in most of my posts have come and now I feel like I’ve been ripped out of one reality and planted in another. Everything is different and it feels like so much has changed. That’s not surprising. It seems quite natural that if a person can change, so must the city they are from and everyone in it.

At the same time, it’s like nothing has changed. My grandparents still fall asleep on the couch, with the TV turned on. The news are different, but announced by the same bunch of faces and voices. The weather is flimsy. Only the trees seem even greener then the way I remembered them. And of course, the most different element of all, has to be me. My egotism wouldn’t allow anything else to overshadow that.

I’ve lost touch with most of my friends. Not that I’ve had many friends. I’m rather antisocial, but those I have stayed in touch with, and the new people I meet all seem to ask the same question I can’t bare to hear one more time. „So what do you do? What are you going to do next? Do you still want to be an actress? What are you going to do for money?” It’s like the voices in my head take a physical form in everyone I even try to have a conversation with. As if I didn’t need time to rest after leaving a place I’ve lived in for the past 3 years. No, you must touch the ground and start running. And since what I want to do is write. Here’s yet another first step. As if all those other steps were nothing but footprints in the sand.

And the road I’ve taken was physically, was almost as long as the one I’ve had to take metaphysically, or mentally (whichever one is more accurate). I wanted to write about the adventure that was my actual journey from LA to Poznan because that in itself was… Something. But I’ll save it for another time. Either way, it’s good to be back. Almost as if it’s taken this long for whatever it is and whatever you call it (soul) to catch up with the physical body that’s been here a week and a half already.

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Reklamy

Of Things Bittersweet

There is something bittersweet about new beginnings. Because it means that one chapter of your life, is coming to an end. And there is something bittersweet about knowing you will be missed. Because you know, you will miss as well.

I’ve been living in Los Angeles for 3 years now. As I’m getting ready to go back to my homeland in less then a month, the word bittersweet keeps resonating in my head. I can’t think of any other word, fitting to describe what I’m going through right now. I look around my room, knowing that the agenda for tomorrow is to start going through my things and deciding what is coming with me, and what I leave behind. And the same thing will happen to my friends. Some will stay in my life, but most I will never see again. Many have said that I will be missed. I believe them. I will miss them too. But the reality is, that life goes on regardless, and certain people and places fade from memory, replaced with new people, new places and new experiences.

It’s a little funny. I’ve done that before. After all, I abandoned everything that I knew to come out here. But the person that moved here isn’t the same person I am right now, so the experience is different. Back then, I believed that I’m coming to a land where dreams come true, where despite all odds, I will be successful. I was also about to start a new school and finally find my tribe of people. Needless to say, that didn’t really happen. Sure I met some amazing friends, but with the majority of people the most I can say is „they don’t have anything against me.” But they also don’t care what the hell I’m doing and where the hell I am, and frankly I feel the same way, so it doesn’t really bother me. It’s just an observation. The dream of somehow becoming a movie star within a year from graduation, is another ridiculous concept I had in my head. Dreams upon dreams. And maybe it’s not ok to give up on dreams, but I think it’s safe to assume that a more realistic approach needs to be applied.

Moreover, America turned out to be nothing more then an illusion. The way it seemed back then… It was this great land where anything can happen. Of course I knew that it wasn’t true but I wanted to believe and live that fantasy. When I came out here, I realized that it’s all filmed in a studio, conveniently cutting out the reality. The reality is, most people in America don’t live in huge, beautiful houses, wear expensive clothing and eat in restaurants all the time. I don’t think I’ve ever seen a Hollywood production that would actually give mention to hordes of homeless people begging for drug money on Hollywood Blvd. What is worse, I’ve seen more foreigners actually care about it then Americans. I know that experiencing LA is not the same as experiencing America but judging by the Orlando shooting (only the biggest one of many other, violent, gun-related crimes committed this year) the rest of this country isn’t doing so great either. And no, it’s not so bad. There are great things about this place and it’s people.  But it’s bad enough to make me think that home, wasn’t really so terrible either. Sure, we have our problems that need to be fixed. But if I’m going to focus my energy and feelings on problems that need solving, I would rather it was a country that gave birth to me and fed me and still wants me there, not a country that was ok with taking my money in taxes and expensive colleges, but now is perfectly fine kicking me out. And screw being a movie star. I’ve seen enough of them to know, that the way they look on the red carpet photos is not who they are in their daily life. And yes it is common knowledge, and yes I did know that before I came out here… But it’s still different to actually see it, with your own eyes.

Burying old dreams, to make room for new ones. Leaving memories in the past, to create space for new experiences. And everything happens so fast. I still have my job, but I know I’m about to clock in next Friday, for the last time. My co-workers ask me constantly when I’m leaving, tell me they will miss me. So does my best friend. And a new boyfriend (because life loves to say „screw you” by introducing you to an amazing guy a month before you’re about to leave forever). It feels good to hear those words, but I can’t stop my inner self from asking „what does that mean?”. However, it’s less in regards to their phrase, and more in regards to my: „I will miss you too”. Will I really? Or will I just throw myself into my new life, with my new dreams and new ambitions? Meet new people and find a path in life that will soon leave Los Angeles so far behind it will be nothing more then a stop I had to take, to learn the things I needed to know? Only time will tell. I am staying positive about this. But there are voices, deep down inside of me, giving shape to a fear.

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What if I can check out anytime I like, but my heart can never leave?