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I presume that once my eyes watered.

Recently I cried not knowing where my pain comes from, I cried and there was nothing to comfort me, nothing to ease the pain. I knew that there was something terribly wrong with my life and I couldn't pin point what it was, yet it was strong enough to wake me up at night. I spent those sleepless nights trying to understand where have I gone wrong, what makes me feel like a piece from another puzzle that just doesn't fit in. I only figured it out today, but subconsciously I must have known...

<blockquote> "We cross our bridges when we come to them and burn them behind us, with nothing to show for our progress except a memory of the smell of smoke, and a presumption that once our eyes watered."
Tom Stoppard </blockquote>

The passing of this month marks a fourth anniversary of a fire that consumed a bridge I crossed once I left home for ever.

Only recently I have come to realize that not only the bridge is gone, but the land I left behind, which I used to call home such a long time, has also been burned down and there is nothing to come back to. I have never intended for this to happen. I only burned the bridge so that my enemies could not follow, and I always hoped that I could, once I'm rich-and-famous, come back to show everyone that contrary to their predictions I have became Someone.

This need to prove myself to them has driven me forward for such a long time that now, when it's gone, I stopped suddenly, stunned. I realized that I have forfeit two-thirds of myself to fulfil this need, and it is all for nothing. My enemies are not important any more and I know that if I would have come back (like the Count of Monte Christo) I would not feel relief nor pleasure and my voyage would have not been finished, since it wouldn't have really started.

I shouldn't have ventured that far from my true self. I sense that the way back will be harder than the path that got me where I am. I have forgotten who I really was.

I feel sudden disgust for all the things I've been doing to please others and to satisfy need for acceptance. It came to me as a rather strange revelation that really, there are only a few things that I'm doing because I really want to do them, just for myself and no-one else. Should I be happy that there still are things like that in my life, or should I mourn those that I have abandoned?

Regardless, I'm on a new journey now. New questions have to be asked and new answers found.

And, oh dear, this is going to take more than one night!


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