Same old

Nothing has changed. I have returned to Pittsburgh, and everyone and everything is exactly the same as they were when I left.

Ordinarily, this should be a source of comfort. Every time I returned from Rochester over the past three years, I depended upon everything in Pittsburgh remaining the same. However, now that I have experienced so much drastic change and newness in Europe, I am dissatisfied with what I find here. I am frustrated by the lack of change, the lack of development in both people and the city. I am new, and so I no longer fit into this old niche.

I have nothing to say to most of my old friends. This is not because they have become horrible people in my absence or because no significant stories to tell. Rather, my old friends are still focused on the same goals they’ve had since high school. Their mindset is the same. Meanwhile, my way of thinking has changed drastically. I no longer feel willing to put up with just sitting around, smiling with a bunch of twenty-year-olds who are enjoying an evening of drug-induced stupor. I’m not saying that people in Europe didn’t smoke or drink, but they didn’t do it to such a destructive degree, to the point where the activity turns a person from an intelligent, motivated, thinking being into a shapeless, thoughtless form that wants nothing more than to feel good. We have different priorities, now. I want to experience the world, to share and debate opinions on issues, to discover new things (whether they be physical entities or merely ideas). Their priorities are…getting by. Being liked. Feeling secure.

I don’t fit in anymore. I never did “fit in,” in the traditional sense: I always wore different clothing than my peers, always read more, never watched enough TV or movies (and so remained oblivious to popular culture), preferred conversation and card-playing to the typical “party.” Now, my different-ness is even more pronounced. I went away and found out more about myself along with others and the world around me. Coming back to this same place with its same people, I just don’t fit into the mold I used to fill.

From time to time, I have complained about being unable to define where “home” is. After going to college, I knew I didn’t belong in Pittsburgh. However, I didn’t feel that I “belonged” in Rochester, either. Obviously, I also did not belong in Europe (as Americans stand out rather conspicuously). That sense of belonging is now even more foreign. I don’t fit into Pittsburgh. The prospect of returning to Rochester does not offer me hope of finding my “niche.” I don’t know if I will belong on the swim team, anymore, because my competitive drive has been diminished by the past six months of independence and lack of militaristic athletic training. I don’t know if I will belong with my Rochester friends, because—like my Pittsburgh friends—we never had the same priorities, either, and mine are now even different than they once were.

Displacement is frustrating, and it is also lonely. I do not envy children who are moved around the country by their parents throughout their lives. Moving around when I am supposed to is difficult enough.