How time flies. Almost a month ago, I was up in the air sat on the plane and soaring up high, staring out of the window at my wings of liberation. I was still floating, gliding, high on life when I landed in Bangkok. There was the occasional turbulence, but I always felt the wind beneath my wings.
And then I found myself in the living area with the high ceilings. I stared out the window of the 37th floor. I felt the pressure in my ears as the lift took me way up high, higher than I’ve ever been, to places I thought I always wanted to be. I looked down at the tiny people down below and occasionally brought up my blog to complain about some of them, and why they refused to have their heads up in the clouds like me.
It seems like the wheel of karma has turned, Lady Luck has shown up late to the party to fuck my shit up and her good friend Irony has gatecrashed the party.
The wonders of walking around a different part of the world and being far away from the problems back in normality and ‘reality’ seem to have worn thin, now. Around the same time that walking around became problematic thanks to the heavy rain or when people in this new corner of the globe started adding to my problems instead of saving me from them (and how I wouldn’t let go of the sleight and move on, putting more weight on my aching shoulders). The novelty of ferry rides, temples and strange sights and smells lost its allure when my phone would whine for my attention. Incoming notifications with the threats, guilt-tripping and cheese filled traps I wanted a break from. Now, my enemies have a first-class, direct ticket to nag me constantly, and get to live rent-free in this expensive apartment with me.
The universe, God, whoever really took offence to me leaving On Nut and wanting to come to this apartment, I think! And all those big plans I had for myself have toppled off my ivory tower.
After living in such crap conditions in London, I wanted to live it up in a nice apartment in Bangkok where I could somewhat afford it. I wanted quiet. I wanted peace. I wanted to be left alone. I wanted a place to reflect and experience all the luxuries that I’d been missing out on, hoping that would ignite my dedication to such things. I wanted to go back to where I was 10 years ago and experience some of those things again.
Wait… is that a monkey’s paw curling?
Turns out those microwavable meals I love so much may have given me food poisoning because the microwave in this place doesn’t work properly, and I didn’t stop to think why one side was warm and the other was ice cold. I wake up to the feeling like the undercooked pork and rice I had earlier has been doing muay thai on my stomach lining. My wish has finally been granted, and I get to spend days inside this apartment all on my own. Shaking and shivering through the heat, reflecting on the last few weeks…
And then, the last 10 years. As I sit in a beach bar a few days before I get sick, lounging back on a circular bed, sipping a mocktail, tapping my foot to the beats and looking out across a clear sky slowly becoming absorbed by rain clouds. I’m up high again, feeling no FOMO, enjoying my own company… until I look around and FEEL the presence of the friends I made (and lost) over the years, I hear their laughter, see their smiles, and for a moment, wish they were sitting nearby, again.
I’m out and actually walking around different parts of Bangkok at long last, feeling quite a bit of shock at how different they are compared to the places I’ve been frequenting around On Nut for the last month. I’m walking by an endless parade of massage shops with an army of women screaming to come in. There now seems to be a nuru massage place on every street (and not far from the schools). And then, I notice a sign that says “Wine Depot.” The amazing Italian restaurant a local girl took myself and a few others on my first week in Thailand all those years ago… and the place I spent my last night in Bangkok… the last night I spent with the girl I was seeing at the time.
I go back there for dinner and sit in the converted outdoor terrace, and realise I’m in the same spot I sat with my ex (of sorts). Behind me is the place the picture with my first friends (of sorts) was taken. I download the photos from Facebook and look over them… and I FEEL their presence again, I hear our laughter, I see our smiles… and for a moment, I wish they were with me there and then.
It’s a strange feeling, offset by how when I was sitting in that beach bar, I realised that despite wanting to be drunk with people I adore again, I’m very happy being sober. I think back to how I was in this place 10 years ago, and crippled by anxiety (does anyone like me), how I could never be seen without my hair straightened (whilst now I whipped my curls about semi-proudly), and I didn’t think I belonged anywhere (whereas now I was quite sure I was a likeable person).
I was always worried about getting older and looking back at all my wasted potential… but in a way, I felt like I was a bit better off than I was 10 years ago… thanks to all the work that version of me made, 10 years ago.
But I’m falling.
I’m falling as I wake up feeling sick, but seeing all those clothes in the wardrobe that I need to wear and make the most out of before I leave. I’m falling as I struggle out of the building and onto the BTS to explore more of Bangkok. I’m falling as I stand in CentralWorld, shivering under the aircon and realising that I can’t do this and get a taxi straight back home.
And when I get back to heaven way up high in the sky, on the 34th floor with the high ceilings, I’m falling on to the sofa, shaking and quaking and feeling the chronic back and shoulder pain seeping back in from the painfully comfortable reclining sofa, as I stare up at the TV like I do at home.
I guess if I had to be sick, a nice place like this is absolutely the place to be doing it. Well, if there was a functioning microwave to fucking heat up all the soup and porridge I bought. But I’ve got everything I came for, I’ve got everything I wanted from this place, haven’t I? I start to (finally) feel some empathy for all the people I was judging from up top in my ivory tower, for lacking the passion, the excitement, the happiness I was feeling… until I started to fall.
Back into old habits, into new drama, into sickness and rumination and the push/pull of things having to be perfect.
Back to reality.
As I spend 2 days stuck inside, trying to recover from this sickness, I have a realisation… that I’ve been having frequently throughout this trip, and in my blog posts. But it’s becoming crystal clear now that I can do nothing but sit in the flashy apartment I always wanted, at the tail-end of a trip where I’ve ate copious amounts of expensive food, been pampered at spas, shopped till I dropped, had the attention of a beautiful woman…
None of what I thought I wanted has been what I wanted.
The pandemic demon that had me locked up with my family and what felt like having my mind flayed for an entire year, and then escaping at the end of that into several more volatile living conditions hypnotised me into thinking that if I can make it to where I am now, I’ll be safe. Secure.
Happy.
If I can get the high-rise apartment, nothing will be wrong. Except for the broken microwave. Or how fucking long the lift takes to come all the way up here. Or how unfriendly the people are. Or how the water isn’t hot enough. Or how I SHOULD be getting more for my money.
If I can go to all these luxurious spas and restaurants and other experiences, everything will be right. Except for the dishonest staff and broken facilities. Or how mediocre the food is for the price. Or how weak the pressure was on that massage. Or how the other person made it too firm. Or how I SHOULD be getting more for my money.
If I can have these nice clothes and a full wardrobe, I’ll have no worries. Apart from every time I sit down to eat and whether I’m going to permanently stain my precious. Or whether it’s going to rain, and the idiot next to me stamps down in a puddle and permanently stains my precious. And how actually, it’s probably better to not wear anything nice, because it SHOULD stay in pristine condition so I get more for my money.
So what the fuck is the point?
Why am I here?
I asked myself that question a lot over the last few weeks, and constantly over the last few days as I sit inside sick falling.
And falling.
And falling.
It’s dark here. I was so excited about the light I’d be getting, but the curtains are drawn and it’s just… dark. I wanted to relive the past I missed, and I just ended up missing it more and realising how big the hole in my heart has been. I wanted to be inspired by all the material things I couldn’t afford so that they could draw me a map for the future, but after a while, it rung hollow.
Why am I here?
I thought back to my birthday, on Monday, and how I felt sick and almost cancelled my plans. But I forced myself off to a spa and had an amazing experience. I was sitting in the jacuzzi at the end, scarfing down this sweet rice they put out for me (I hadn’t eaten all day) and heard the door opening. I looked to my right and saw two people coming in and was equal parts confused and embarrassed that I’d been caught basically dislodging my jaw and hoovering up this food.
And then, under dim lights, the three women in their Thai accents start singing happy birthday to me, holding out a slice of cake with a candle on it. I laugh out loud in surprise and slip around in the jacuzzi trying to sit upright and look presentable. I blow out the candle and they clap for me and leave. I take a spoonful and it’s not overly special or fancy, but it’s one of the best things I’ve tasted here.
I lay back in the tub with rose petals, surrounded by the flickering of candles. I haven’t had anyone sing happy birthday to me and give me some cake in maybe 16 years. The video tape of that time plays in my head, and I feel a bit nostalgic and wistful again. But I think about this new memory, this new act of kindness and my heart feels less hollow, and a bit more whole.
When I was in bed all day sick and feeling like I had stopped falling and had finally crashed, that memory was a spark in the darkness of my descent. And with it, another spark and memory ignited. And another. And another.
Of all the times I came out of my cave to be more of myself, in laughing with people, sharing warmth, being willing to share and give, and think, “how can I make this person’s day a bit better?”
I think back to 10 years ago, but what I see is different. I’m no longer under the illusion of that demon, seeing safety and joy in control and me, me, me.
I see all those beautiful people, again. The people I was scared to see or think about over the last 10 years, because if I did, I might realise how much colder my world has now become… and how I’ll never feel their joy and warmth ever again.
I crashed. And now I burn.
Embers around my like well-wishing fireflies. The cinders of my delusions slowly fading away. A glow emanating from inside of me.
Have I ever been falling? Or just constantly landing?
Maybe my place was never up here in the sky, trying to shine amongst the beautiful people and stars.
But down below in the ashes.
Maybe that’s where I’ll really find my wings.
