i can't find comfort in the fact that it could be worse

it's so easy to believe that your world gets frozen in time when you leave it, but when you share that world with millions of other people, it's clear that that belief is misplaced. i had that thought while i was on my way to meet a friend, perhaps the only one i have who comes closest to having the status of 'long-lost'. that almost arrogant feeling that comes from having survived a year away from home makes me assume that people would care about what i feel about the whole experience, when in fact most people seem to take it for granted.

i suppose when you are away for long enough, you become more of a fixture than anything else, something that's there in the background. i imagine myself coming up in conversation as if i'm a newly-purchased table lamp or a pet dog: "how's he doing? oh that's good." when i do come back, it's much easier for others to pretend that it's the most natural thing in the world, their only pleasure coming from surprising you with unusual happenings that you have missed out on.

in the past few days i've had my share of awkward meetings. no one ever notices change in themselves as it is happening, but there are moments, perhaps while you're with people who you've known for a long time, when the stark realization that you are acting like a totally different person hits you. it becomes so much harder to feel at home when you know you life has taken a certain tangent from everything else you were familiar with.

so now i speak in a strange way; the singlish is rusty. i've never had a voice to call my own and trying to find one now is almost more fake then just speaking in a way that blends in. it's uncomfortable to pepper my interaction with storekeepers and hawkers with the niceties that i'm used to. it feels strange to order a scotch on the rocks at a singaporean bar, and i've forgotten the importance of asking for my food mai hiam.

but it feels like home in a way you can't deny. you realize how much more intuitive it is to flick the switch down to switch on the light, remember to tap the ez-link card before getting off the bus and recognize that a packet of tissue paper also serves as a "reserved" sign on food court tables. bus number 147 takes the same route through chinatown to get from home to city hall, and mambo night at zouk makes you feel older than you really are.

the changes just reminds you that you've been away, and that there is some work to be done before you can really feel at home. you've really got to earn it. so now the soft serve ice cream at macdonalds is 60 cents, bishan mrt station has a new platform and your flight lands at terminal 3. "we've moved on", the country seems to say, "and so have you. we're glad to have you back though, now get used to it."

so what have i done? this attempt to regain emotional balance have left me grasping at straws. meeting people have become a chore. i look forward to seeing people i haven't seen in a long time, only to realize i'm not as welcome as i might have expected. when your time is limited, you don't expect to hear excuses. but of course, everyone else have already decided what their lives are going to be, and i wasn't around to fight for a place in them.

it's been a scary week so far. there have been a few delightful moments, but this hasn't been what i expected at all. my losing streak against this dreadful year continues.