the eternal compagny of myself

As I lie in my french bed, I wonder, will it be english or french ?
I'm writing but not really concentrated. There is the living moth, dying as we all are, swirling to close to the light and soring up again.
There is Teo on facebook, a conversation of blandness, fulled with love. Those conversations you have when there is nothing of interest to say, but you say it all the same, just to let the person know you care.
There is me here. Only me here, yes there is my familly meters away, but the ones I feel linked to by a string now are leagues away and probably not feeling linked to me.
What do I do with all these loose strings I have, winding round the world ? The strings that were taught 10 days ago, now lie, limp, loosening.I was there before. 10 days ago, I was in Bhagsu, my new found home. that feeling of knowing life is still happening there but I'm not. Someone walked into my restaurant the other day and noticed I wasn't there, noticed enough to message me. It's these things.

10 days ago, I thought, when I went down the unrationnal tears on my face, that my life would change when I arrived elsewhere, because anywhere was elsewhere from Bhagsu. But my life didn't change I am still me, I am the only one that stays, Wherever I will go, I'll be there. I've been there every moment of my life. Even that time I took mushrooms and died, I was still there. Sometimes this thought terrifies me, that feeling that if I go mad, I know it will be the madness of being alone, the solitude of my head translating to an incapacity to connect with others.
And that probably says a lot about me I guess, that my biggest fear at the moment is being in a state where everything is normal, but something is off, like being carressed by a gloved hand

Acceptance of this solitude, the eternal compagny of myself brings me solace and happiness.