Last day in Vietnam.

I’m worried about going home. And anxious about the flight. It hasn’t happened in so long, I honestly don’t know how to deal with this. I am scared of being scared. I get anxious at the idea of being frightened. It’s a stupid loop I can’t get out of. I suppose it might have to do with my return home. Because now the future is blank. I used to have very precise milestones to reach, goals to aim at. Go to New York, relax after the end of the competing season, go to Vietnam. Now there is nothing. Sure I am going to start training again in a month, but it all looks empty. I don’t have a project. I’m going back to my same old life with no purpose, tired of being so far away in an unfamiliar and unwelcoming country, yet not ready to go back home. I long for my own bed, my own shower and the cleanliness and safety of drinkable running water, but I am scared at the prospect of what awaits for me there.

The void, the expectation.

I haven’t seen Albert of course. I thought about him now and again, I hoped somehow he would be on the ground while I was here, but nothing happened. No text, no e-mail, nothing. I don’t know if we ever will see each other, or will continue writing blindly forever about this country that joined us and kept us apart when we were closest.

And going back home I will have to resume my contacts with Darius and Andrew. The prospect of having to break cover after so long is scary. I don’t know if they’ll even be interested in hearing from me again, everything might have turned upside down in two weeks. Or maybe it has for me while time stopped for everyone else trapped in their everyday reality.

I don’t feel different. Other than knowing now that I survived Asia, my first trip without my ex, my first journey in a less than perfect country, No offense to all the Vietnamese out there,

I am afraid to have walked backwards. I feel extremely vulnerable and somehow abandoned. Rarely have I felt this alone and in such need of physical intimacy. Nothing of the sorts met me here in Vietnam. I had hoped, strongly, but it wasn’t there. It’s never there. It won’t be there back home. That is also why I don’t really know what it is I am going back home to, other than my beloved pillow and some fresh lettuce.

There was a baby on the plane today, six months old, half Westerner half Asian. Her father was holding her but was painstakingly clumsy and inattentive. Equally the mother was painstakingly anorexic and pathologically overprotective. And the baby girl was the sweetest thing alive. I am not sure exactly how my brain processed all of that, but it got somehow filtered and it did not help calm my nerves.

I find myself again longing to be part of a couple. I shouldn’t but I wouldn’t know how to prevent it and avoid it.

I haven’t been at the top of my mental shape these last few days. Again I felt trapped in a life I am not that comfortable in, I felt trapped in a body I am not that comfortable with and mostly in a mind that does not make either thing easier. I felt inferior to others more than I have in a very long time. I looked at others with envy as they wore dresses that fit better than mine, I looked at others all paired up with wonderful and handsome boys and men I have never had and probably will never have in the future either, I looked at others so much better looking than me.

I try all the time to fill up that void with things I do I can be proud of. Does it work? I am not sure, somehow I am proud, of my skating, of my language skills, of my photography, of my cakes. But to what point what I can do defines what I am, who I am?

I need some time of peace and quiet. Away from the constant honking, away from strangers trying to get my attention and my money, away from others who try to steal everybody else’s attention including mine. Some time alone, some time when I can write and cry alone without indiscreet eyes of valets in the hotel lobby or travel mates to pretend to be fine to.

Sometimes I wonder what’s best. If I should rather burst in tears every now and let dark emotions flow free of restraints to purify my mind or hold back and try to pull myself together and prevent to break down every time I feel like doing it, just as E. Gilbert suggested.

I would have liked to spend some more time at a temple. That proved to be much closer to impossible than I would have thought. I should follow that lead back home.

So many things to do, so little time, so little money, so many words unspoken, tears unshed, hugs ungiven…