Bangkok.
I could blend in here; my appearance isn’t far from that of a local Thai. Thailand wasn’t just familiar to me. The country felt like a second home. But now, something was different. It didn’t feel like home anymore. Despite being in a bustling city, it felt like being in a Jungle.
The once-familiar warmth of the people now felt hollow, their smiles seeming fake, their gestures insincere. I was tired of guessing at hidden motives, of trying to decipher behaviours that never made sense. The people around me—people I once thought I understood—now felt distant, unfamiliar. What I craved was transparency, honesty, and simplicity. But here, it seemed everything was veiled in pretence. Besides, I no longer wanted to feel the weight of the humidity on my skin or breathe in the thick, polluted air.
Once so alive and full of adventure for me, Bangkok had become a place where I no longer felt at ease. The very city that had shaped part of my youth now left me feeling disconnected. I couldn’t recognise it—or myself in it—anymore. I felt an overwhelming sense of loss.
It reminded me of a scene from Planet of the Apes, a film I watched in my 20s. In the movie, a man is shot out into space, and when he returns to Earth, everything has changed. The world he knew is gone—humans are caged, and apes have taken over. It’s a jarring realisation for the character, and strangely, I felt something similar right then.
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