I lay on my bed and
look at the ceiling and the intricately carved wooden lamp hanging
from the ceiling. All of these exasperated, negative thoughts bounce
around my head. You need to be obedient, they say, you
can’t be wandering off just because you feel like it.
“But that’s who I
am,” I argue back. “I started wandering off on my own when I was
three freaking years old, and you expect me to stop now.”
Yep, that’s exactly right. Who you
were was wrong, is wrong. You need to change.
“But…”
No buts… you need to change for
the sake of the team.
Big storm clouds of
resentment pound against the dams of my consciousness and drive
fifteen foot waves against them, dark and foamy.
“Who the hell are
they to ask me to change! I am who I am and now that wasn’t good
enough for them? Screw them!”
If you don’t change, they’ll send
you home. It’s that simple. Is that what you want?
I lay on my bed as
the storm rages on inside me. Matt and Paul unpack their things and
get ready to take their long naps. It’s now 6:00 AM. We don’t have
long to sleep, four or five hours at most.
I feel
stuck. I don’t like who I am, and I don’t like who I am being asked,
being forced to
become. I feel like I am between a proverbial rock and a hard place,
trapped like an animal by doubt, frustration, resentment, confusion,
and self-hatred.
“I don’t like the
thoughts that are going through your mind,” I tell myself. “You
just need some sleep. Hopefully they’ll be gone after you wake up.”
I brush my teeth.
I get in bed. I put in my iPod and listened to some spooky songs by
the Decemberists. I sleep.
Day One in Romania.
