Escape.

Currently listening to – Angelical (Carlix) bachata

I took this picture, knowing that one day, I would leave this place.

I took this picture a long long time ago, to the point I can’t actually remember taking my camera out and snapping a picture. But I know exactly where this is in the hospital and I know that I’ve taken it.

It was at a point in time in my life that I felt as though I was going to end up here forever. This place, this point in my life had me feeling as though I was at the wrong end of the pillow pressed on my face and I was flailing. I needed to get out. I HAD to get out. There was no try. There was only do.

And recently, the thought that I was going to leave wasn’t just a thought anymore.

I wrote my resignation letter. I printed two out, signed them, sealed them in crisp white envelopes and put one of them on a supervisor’s desk and another one on another supervisors desk while muttering a “Fsck you”.

I didn’t look back.

And I didn’t regret it.

Two years. Two years of my life that I gave this place and nothing ever came out of it. Sure. I found salsa. Sure. I won my first registered latin ballroom event. Sure. I made the newspapers, in print and in image. Sure, I got familiar with the place. I started to grow, learn things, know people, know places. I knew where to go for a fish and chip fix or where I could sit on a bench on a clear sunny evening and dream. I knew where good dance spots were (not that there were many to begin with) and I knew where I could get my favourite fried rice if I ever had a sudden longing for heavily oiled carbs.

And then I had my friends. I had my work friends and I had my dance friends. I had my friends who were great for dancing with and then I found friends who I could open up to, share my pangs to, laugh and joke and make fun of. As an outsider stepping into this place, they welcomed me in and I was grateful for the company. See, when I first moved into this place, I knew no one. I was going in blind. Utterly and completely blind. No one. Nada.

When I first heard of this place, I Googled it. I searched it on every single available website I knew. I Google Mapped it. I tried to familiarise myself with it even before I came up here. I tried to find out what I could do in this godforsaken town. My main concern was that I would end up here, unable to dance. My ballroom, my ceroc, my latin, my argentine tango…all down the drain. A thought I could not bear. I had to dance. Even if it was just the one dance, I would be happy. Complete. Whatever.

So here I stood in this town, on the 2nd of January, 2009. It was a hot bright sunny day. Skies were clear. No clouds. And the sun beat down relentlessly. I was left standing at the bus station, people dispersing and me getting a tad worried. I had no idea how to get to work where I was supposed to meet my boss.

A taxi dropped by and I paid my way to my destination. And to cut a long story short, there was a HUGE mix up and I ended up being stranded on my own for 3 days before coming into work on my first day.

I found ballroom about two weeks after I started here. And progressed to private lessons after.

In terms of dance, I think I was refusing to believe that I was stuck in this town. I travelled down to a neighbouring town because I knew that they had ceroc that I could dance to and I had a friend that I knew I could partner for my first competition. Shortly after that though, my flagging enthusiasm and the fatigue from travelling by bus or plane down every weekend took its toll on me and my trips became less frequent. In the end, I was happy to stay here on weekends. I’d just have a quiet night at home. Or find some place to go and have a quick dance. But I learnt to settle. I took my time but I did, in the end, make my peace to find a place to dance here.

A big part of this place would be the French Lady.

You see, for a while especially when work was getting terribly unbearable, she became my one reason to stay here. In this town I called godforsaken, this hellhole that I had learnt to tolerate and potentially even consider charming, when work was tearing me a new one every single day of the week, she became the reason that I decided to stay just a little bit longer. One more day. One more hour. But alas, our differences drew us apart. We were two very different people who, for one brief moment in time, found that our paths crossed but it didn’t last for long. Soon, it was though we never met each other. We live in the same town and yet, we don’t ever see the other. Which I guess works well, really.

But I’m finally making my way out.

At present, there are a lot of unpleasant little things arising from my idealistic thoughts that I’ll be traversing the world and finding a new life somewhere across the oceans, 10,000km away from here. A lot of issues to deal with, a lot of truths and untruths and pain and discomfort but I guess, its never easy when it comes down to the heart of the matter. You just gotta deal with it head on.

Someone asked me if I’m scared. No. At this point in time, I’m not. I’m just very, very, very troubled. Too many thoughts, too many things to sort out in my own head and unfortunately, no one else can do it but me.