A few days ago I realized it. I think it was there for a while now, poking me from inside my skull, but I couldn’t understand the feeling. Angst. Sadness. A void in my chest. Something among those lines. A very annoying something.
“I’m lost” I finally said to my girlfriend. “I just lost myself” I continued. Long sigh. “I’m not the man you fell in love with anymore. I am… I am… Fuck, I have no idea.”
Hitting that wall is like being in a car crash, flying through the windshield and landing on a swamp infested by hungry alligators. A certain death. A dark tunnel with no light to go to in the end.
Last year was the start of this. Life got too complicated too fast and I didn’t even have time to blink. Spent most of my vital energy in fixing things, sucking up the bad and trying to enjoy the good, but I couldn’t do any of that very well.
Oh, Norway. Cold, distant land. Away from everyone and everything I know. Broke, as usual. Locked in an open cage with nowhere to go. Who am I here, where nobody knows me? What am I?
We are only the memories we leave in other people.
There’s only one person who remembers me here. And she loves me. Then she’s blinded, or my change was slow enough to go unnoticed in front of her eyes.
What now? How to start over and rebuild myself, fixing something that’s not broken but left behind, somewhere in my personal story?
Yes, I’m lost.
(Or my fucking middle age crisis came way too early.)