Looking back a bit, it's been two years since I left my native lands and moved here.
As soon as I left my hometown, certain moments from the past began to pop up in my head. But as soon as I shook my head a little, they themselves began to dissolve into the stream of my consciousness.
I have nothing to regret.
Not to say that I felt bad there, or that I was somehow oppressed, rather, I just got used to everything. Nevertheless, there was nothing holding me back in the place that I used to call home. When I left there, I had no doubt that I would not miss that place.
The word "home" no longer existed for me.
The move didn't take long. Despite the fact that my hometown and Paris were several thousand kilometers apart, it seemed as if I was just going to a neighboring city. Perhaps this was due to the fact that air travel was not uncommon for me as such, but I had never flown so far before.
Thanks to my aunt, who has been living here for a long time, I did not have to waste time looking for an apartment, and she allowed me to move in, and she moved to the south of France with her husband. Her children had already become old enough and scattered to wherever, from which she allowed me to stay in her apartment in the center of Paris.
That's how I ended up at the lyceum.
Lyceum is essentially the same high school, just unlike our education system, Europeans have their own nuances.
Anyway, I only had enough for two and a half years, and I decided to give up.
And so, I dropped out of school.
Studying was like torture for me. Every day at the high school was painfully long, the ears were always flooded with the hum of French students who gathered almost in droves during recess.
After speaking a whole day in another language, you feel unbearably tired, which makes you just want to fall into your bed under the covers and wake up from this terrible dream. But even the most terrible dreams are not as frightening as the uncertainty of tomorrow.
Every time after school, when I came home, I would collapse on a chair with wheels and just stare at the ceiling, as if trying to shake off the burden of a hard day. Despite my attempts to relax, as if in a dark thicket, I was covered from head to toe in thick darkness, and that heavy feeling in the chest area had no intention of leaving my body. It felt like something in the middle of your chest was being squeezed and wasn't going to let go. It's a lousy feeling. And so, every day after the lyceum, I just sat on a chair on wheels wrapped in a gloomy dark cloud, with a hail of thoughts pouring into my head. After much thought, I was either doing my homework or just playing video games. Maybe if I had a few more friends, everything would be different? I thought so at the time.
Unlike me, my only friend, on the contrary, aspired to knowledge, and studied more and more diligently for exams.
I'm not even sure if I'm really happy around him, if my emotions were real. I just support his ideas and agree when the situation demands it. But he's a good guy. I respect him.
After thinking about it a little, I realized that my attitude towards him was no different from what I had shown to my past friends. As long as I can remember, I have never shone with special ambitions. I had a couple of close friends at home, but I don't remember that we ever had to discuss very personal topics. I was just friends with them. Without any obligations. We were just good friends to each other. Surprisingly, I was surrounded by quite active people.
Can I consider this strange?