right where you left me

Friends,

I know my writing has been sporadic lately. It’s like there’s a post Friday, and then on Sunday. And then again, and then none at all. Or, at least - that’s how it feels to me.

I’m watching as the sun sets in my living room. Or at least - one of my many living rooms. It bounces off the high and the low rises. It bounces off the clouds, off the lake, and into the ether. Planes fly, helicopters circulate. The noise of the city is below me. The streetcars and busses. The horns honking, the friends who move in groups together.

Everyone exists in their own little world, and yet, I am here.

I’m sleepier than usual lately - but I think this is a good thing. I think my nervous system has finally adjusted, and is finally letting myself rest. I feel like I had to fight for so long - and not fight in the traditional sense of the word - but fight as in - expect the unexpected.

I’ve had mixed and complicated emotions about returning to Rome, and about returning to Europe in general. I think I need a break from living out of suitcases. Not for forever, but just for right now.

Wow. Even writing that feels like a relief.

I’ll let you in on a secret. When I came home in August, I fully believed I’d be out of the city in two weeks. I applied for my French Work-Holiday, and as I was applying for it…I just had this feeling. And the only way I know how to describe that feeling is in the following sentence:

If this doesn’t work out for me, then I really don’t care.

It didn’t feel like something I actually wanted. It just seemed like the logical next step. I was so used to being on my own. Living out of one big black suitcase, never bothering to unpack, and changing locations every 1-3 months.

So, when the visa didn’t go through - I actually was kind of relieved. And it was an easy appeal process. All I needed was some minor paperwork - but something didn’t feel right.

When you live abroad or move to a foreign country - in my experience, at least, you are alone for a good chunk of time. Your social circle is minimal. The language barriers, bureaucracy, navigating the “newness” of a new city - is nothing short of exhausting. And it’s beautiful, please don’t get me wrong. But it’s also just as challenging as it is rewarding.

You kind of always feel like you’re the new kid. Teetering on the edge of - how much do I give up of my actual self to “fit in”, but still holding on to what made you. But I never really wanted to fit in anywhere.

The point of me moving abroad wasn’t to forget who I was and create an entirely new identity. I just wanted to write.

So, for a good 3 years, I grappled with the identity of always feeling like that new kid. That new kid with no one place to call “home”. And it’s not even like I was envious of those who were going home to the same, exact place every night. I was just confused by them - because it was a concept I didn’t understand.

Stability seems like a foreign concept to me. Letting myself feel held and supported is also such a foreign concept to me. Home. That feeling of sinking into something.

But I want that, I do. And I’m so used to living out the riskier option.

I’m getting emotional typing this out to you. I’d give anything for someone to say - “Hi. Here is a home for as long as you need. Stay for as long as you like.” With no end date in sight. With no other provisions, other than the fact that they want to be your safety.

I’d give anything for someone to take me seriously. For someone to see me as more than just a moving part. I’d give anything for that fireplace with the candles, for the library full of books that I’ve only read two of. I’d give anything to have my own set of keys, to google “how to get red wine out of a sofa” - because we know I would pick out the fluffiest white one. I’d give anything to have someone tuck my hair behind my ear, to kiss me on my forehead. To have someone’s shoulder to always rest my head on when I’ve had one too many dirty martinis.

I have to leave these lines from Taylor’s “Right Where You Left Me” here.

Glass shattered on the white cloth
Everybody moved on
I, I stayed there
Dust collected on my pinned-up hair
They expected me to find somewhere
Some perspective, but I sat and stared

Right where you left me