Today was an important day, but a hard one. I went to classes and they were nothing to write home about. Then I went home, slept to make up for a restless night, and then moved into my new house.
Normally this would be more of an ordeal, but I simply threw all of my belongings into my two rolly-bags, backpack, and laptop bag, and walked four minutes. Then I was moved? It is odd but this is the truth.
But moving in has made me feel very. . .off. I feel like I did the first night here, when I lay awake all night after desperately hoping to talk to people online in a crappy locutorio. Right now I am in the same locutorio, feeling the same loneliness.
I walked half of the city limits tonight, trying to find something to photograph, to make something lovely. But instead I was mocked by the early-closed restaurants, the couples walking hand-in-hand, and the apartments sealed up with lights inside ablaze. This city is well on its way into living, and I feel like there is no room for me here. There is no University and thus no one my age. There hardly appears to be anyone single, and I am not bold enough to strike up a conversation with a couple making googly eyes at each other.
I keep worrying over the fact that I left behind in the States a woman who cares about me. This seems to me a foolish thing. What if she tires of my being away? Such a good thing surely cannot happen twice, and even if it could I only want her.
And now I moved out of Alberto´s family´s house, and this is a scary thing. They took care of me, explained things for me, fed me, spoke slowly to me, and there were children to play with and draw pictures for. Now I have to buy my own groceries, prepare my own meals, and learn to be even more alone. They had two cars and food and great hearts. What do I have?
As I unpacked for the first time, a sense of semi-permanence fell on me. And the quiet of the house I share with another professor screams louder than the two children whose yelling I learned to sleep to.
I confess to you reading this, and this is no easy thing to type, that I am very lonely. My heart hurts. I do not want to worry you, but I am not a good liar. Please pray for me, I guess is what I´m trying to get to.
4 years ago
5 comments:
Hey Lucas, thanks for the comment on my blog. I just went thru and read your latest posts... I regret that it's been awhile since I've been on blogger. I'm sorry for your loneliness. I'm sure that it will take some time to get adjusted but I really do wish you all the best over there. I'm on Skype as well (same name as on AIM) if you ever want to talk. Hang in there my friend... things will get better :)
I'm sorry you're lonely, and I will certainly be praying for you, friend.
Oh, friend.
We're praying for you! Very muchly. I know that everything will work out for you just the way God has it planned. I'm sorry that it's hard for you though.
I was cleaning out the car over the weekend and I found the rock you gave me the first night of harvest. Remember that?
Anyway, I miss your hugs.. and you!
I know this feeling all too well.
I didn't leave anybody behind (of romantic interest, anyway), but living overseas can be just achingly lonely, can't it? And I live with three other girls.
You have my empathy from Africa...and prayers.
lonelinesss can go very deep, yes?
but it can also be time of great learning.
you should find a local church to mesh into, and to take care of you and vice versa. i think that is important. God created the church for support. you are asking support from people across the ocean. we can help in some way, but locals can help more with time. love you lots lucas!
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