the weepies

I can't really say
Why everybody wishes they were somewhere else
But in the end, the only steps that matter
Are the ones you take all by yourself

You and me walk on, walk on, walk on
Yeah, you and me walk on, walk on, walk on
'Cause you can't go back now
Walk on, walk on, walk on
You can't go back now

-the Weepies-

I had a bit of a moment last night, alone here at the apartment.  All I seemed to want the last few weeks of Greece was a few moments of solitude, some time alone - and yet as I sat there, utterly alone in the middle of the night, empty apartment, I realized that I didn't know quite what to do with myself.  I hadn't been alone for more than an hour since May 13, and it was totally freaking me out.  Like, "had to find my iPod, learn how to use the sleep timer, and go to bed with the lights on" freaking me out.

Me, the girl who has spent four years living in a dorm room all alone, who has wandered nearly a dozen foreign countries either alone or with complete strangers, who could happily go a day without speaking to anyone - was alone and terrified.

It's amazing, that even though I was getting extremely frustrated by the lack of solitude, how quickly I got used to just having someone around.  How, subconsciously, you become accustomed to the sound and comfort of having someone else sleeping nearby (Sonia and I either shared a double bed or had small twin beds for the duration of the trip), and then once alone again, how distinctly you miss that closeness.

So I found myself curled up with my beloved down blanket, listening to the Weepies' Hideaway album on my iPod, and trying to coax myself into calmness/falling asleep with the lights on.  I knew that I wouldn't stop if I let myself start crying - I'd managed to make it out of the city yesterday morning and all the way back to Raleigh without shedding a single tear - and letting the floodgates open in the middle of the night would not help anything.

I couldn't believe that I am perfectly calm and comfortable alone in the vastness of Athens - yet was freaking out about spending the night in my own apartment.  From the surrealness of the last few weeks, it just seemed too odd, too sad almost to be back here.

The hard part of this journey, I guess, is in learning to approach my two weeks in Kentucky as I would experience island hopping through the Mediterranean, or spending two weeks in Athens, or randomly going to Albania for a day.  Because I can't keep comparing everything - I'll go crazy, become horribly depressed - so if I can venture to find/appreciate the beauty of whatever place I'm in - life just might be grand.

But for now I'm going to sit here with the lights on, listening to The Weepies, hoping to get another few hours of sleep in before I need to get ready for my only Sunday of church in Fuquay for the foreseeable future.  I can't wait to get to Grandmother's - it has been far too long since I've seen any of my family - and the next two weeks should be pretty amazing.  Caitlin is coming to stay for a few days then Dad is coming for part of the weekend, and madre gets back from Belize on the 25th. 

I'm still in this sort of shock-state about the fact that these five weeks in Greece actually happened - they don't seem real in any way.  It feels like the time I spent between airports was just a hazy dream - totally surreal and wonderful, and too good to have been real life.  I love the lyrics from this Weepies song, its quickly becoming a favorite on the album...

 And what you make of it, let me say
You get what you take from it so be amazed
And never stop, never stop, never stop
You gotta be brave

'Cause all this beauty
You might have to close your eyes
And slowly open wide
And watch the sun rise

One day, at some point in their lives, everyone should experience something so wholly wonderful that you can't convince yourself it actually happened.  Puts everything into perspective.

~RLM