Every time I move to a new city I go through a kind of ‘settling-in’ process. It involves me returning to what I had up until now assumed was a kind of depressive state. I become surprisingly productive creatively but I also become completely withdrawn and think deeply. I lose myself entirely.
I arrived in Stockholm about a month ago. I don’t really know anyone here and I don’t have much money. Although social, it takes me time to form deep bonds and I don’t particularly enjoy the stages in a friendship before those bonds are formed, so I can often be lazy. As a result, I begin to explore the city alone. I start to walk, I get lost and as I get lost I pay more or less attention to my surroundings and I begin to think. Invariably this type of thinking leads me back to the same topic – my dad and my best friend. Two people’s opinions and presence I crave, but can no longer have.
Each time I move, I move further away from them. I come to an environment in which they cannot exist, unless I make it that way. It doesn’t make me sad, but it does make me miss them more. I think about them and I analyse what happened to them and I remember them, and it makes them relevant and real. So that when I’m lost in this new city, creating an exciting part of my life that they’ll never get to see, I’m surrounded by them. Their presence makes me feel happy and comfortable and with them by my side, I can never be alone.
That’s the beauty of it.