I haven't written in my diary for over a month if one measures it in traditional manner, but it seems that I have been far removed from my own thoughts and my writings for much much longer than that - a whole lifetime has passed, if I can say such a thing. There was such a disconnect between me and my thoughts in these last weeks that it was difficult to figure out whether I was thinking anything at all, and what if I was had that to do with my life as I was living it. Travel always does that to me, takes me out of myself and puts me in a spectator position, I look at myself as though from the outside and can discern sharply how I am, how I appear to be, what am I looking to others and so on. And in the midst of all this I lose touch with my own self, is it done on purpose? do I mentally block myself from thinking normally while I am away and with other people, do I then withdraw even further into the recesses of my mind and soul while on the outside I appear to be socializing and bonding? I think I spend too much time on my own. Being shut up in my room and thinking and pondering and living out my grief and sadness. But, at times, you can run though not not just fast enough, life catches up with you and you are caught, you are bound to face up to reality and let your feelings take over you.
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