Prison break

I hate this country... I hate it from the bottom of my heart and with all the strength I have left after living here for so long. I simply hate it. It is the loneliest place I've ever been to, it's my freakin' personal desert.. sea of emptiness, festival of solitude. Benvenuto in Italia...

I went home for a couple of weeks. I used to go home or anywhere else like on a mission - my mind, my heart, my soul... they were all staying behind, in Italy. The empty shell was somewhere else, but I could never leave my problems behind. They were coming with me, the invisible luggage - not taxed at the airport but being heavily paid for. The Stockholm syndrome overtook me, I guess. But this time... this time it was different. I went home to bury my dog... and there was nothing I could spare, nothing I could leave behind and nothing I could carry extra. I went back home entirely, all of me in the same piece and without the marks of Italy and my life here imprinted in every pore of my skin. And I finally became happy. The dog of my youth brought me back my youth and my peace, as her final gift to me. I owe you one more, my dear Tofa.

Somebody told me I remind him of a calm sea... I first smiled, thinking how wrong he is, and how many storms haunt these waters, how many currents break the depths, how many dead bodies lie on the bottom. But then again, I understood he was right ... I went home and the sea calmed down. No giant waves were tormenting my waters and no wind was blowing off my peace. I was home and it was good. I was home and it was me again, finally. No more addiction to my misery, no more waves of self-compasion and no ambivalence. Just me.. I met spring home. Not like going in a shelter, but like breaking out of a prison. They tied me back now, but I did remember what I used to be. And my term is ending soon. Thank you, Romania... thank you, Tofa.. and thank you, unnamed guy, for helping me notice and badge the break-out.