I love to sing. I sang in choir when I was in high school.
But I didn’t like being in my school’s choir. It was a rather notorious organisation – infamous for the fact that once one joined, one was unable to leave. It wasn’t until my final year at school that we were allowed – expected – to leave. For a long while, the thought “I don’t have to go back to choir!” made me unrealistically happy. No matter how shitty it was being in matric, I wasn’t in the choir anymore.
Part of me wanted the choir to tank when that the people who had been forced to stay had finally been allowed to leave. Another part of me – a more magnanimous part – hoped that it would do well and that the new members would be happier there than I had been.
Sometimes, I missed singing in the choir.
I railed so long against something, I couldn’t wait to leave, and leaving made me so happy, but sometimes I still missed it.
Coming back home is starting to feel like that Continue reading “Reality Hits: When the Elation of Returning Home Starts to Wear Off”