Funny how I missed Brussels’ rain as it rained today. Funny because I’m not fond of rain but still have a preference. In Belgium, the rain was exciting, fast and rapid; the sky would literally tear. That’s the kind of rain I like, one that makes your heart beat faster, one that gives you a rush, makes you want to take part. Here, it was dull, maybe because summer is just about over. It was so dull that I didn’t want to hear it, or even open my window, or feel it. I had no interest to be involved.
Exciting things, however, are happening. We are buying a house, a very pretty one with lots of windows. I’ve never lived in a house. So far, I have revealed no interest. I have not yet seen it. I was not part of the house-hunting so Maman thinks it’s because I’m “stepping out of the family”. “You don’t feel like you are a part of us anymore, do you?” she says and it pisses me off every time. Of course, it’s just Maman’s silly joke, but I wonder, am I really here? Am I honestly part of anything? Or have I become so deluded by ideas of life in New York, London, or Spain?
She is not right, but I’m afraid I have become an outsider in much of what goes on around here. I look at everything as a temporary matter, something I have to do in order to get to the real thing, the real dream, the ideal life. I was never an ideologist, but I have turned into a demanding perfectionist, not in a literal way, but figuratively. I want these perfect life pictures that take part away from here.
Today I was talking with Maman and she suddenly said, “I’ll miss you once you leave for the city”. And I realized, to her, I am already half-way gone.