I
find myself drinking water to combat fatigue/illness, yet despite these great
quantities of ‘ultimate solvent’ flushing through my system, I grow more sick
and tired of Cairo every passing minute.
It
isn’t the dirty, crowded or oppressive aspect of the city, nor is it the
academic program which busies itself pandering fools and assholes. It’s what I
become when I’m here. The socially soaring success of the image I have created
carries tiring expectations. I must not only be interesting but also sunny, funny, pretty, intellectually stimulating and—the worst one, an
‘easy-going traveler’.
This
is the portrayal of self to which I have submitted and it is haunting. I feel
the need to deliver this person, or I am the opposite of all the positive and
wonderful characteristics I want to believe I am
These
thoughts have usurped my Cairene day. I will take this time to say that it
isn’t that I dislike myself, per se, just the energy it takes to be me. I don't want to die, I just don't want to drive.