Another Fork

Well, here I am sitting alone once again, and why is that, because I am unsociable, hard-nosed, inflexible, or because I am in the wrong setting? Mostly, I think the latter. I don’t belong here with these people. I have decided to go home, and will do so as soon as I can tie up loose ends.
This was an adventure that turned out badly. I got away from drugs, and temptation, and sadness, only to land in alcohol, tobacco, and frustration. I was alone, but now am more alone than ever—disconnected by the language and the lack of interesting things to do. I feel so uncomfortable.
For an ill-paying job that has only moments of brightness, I exhaust myself trying to do my best, but because it is not my calling, I am spending hours in producing nothing. Sometimes I want to bang my head on a wall and lie down to die. The alternative is to travel, but I really cannot afford that and would soon be broke. I have painted myself into a corner.
The guilt is mine. I haven’t tried hard enough to overlook those things that bother me. But it must also be shared with one who met me with a sweet and enthusiastic disposition, who has now fallen back on old familiar ways through, I think, resentment and laziness—resentment due to my actions (or inactivity)—laziness because it is in one’s nature to resort to the familiar when frustrated. That is why I must go home. I am not close to the familiar here, and thus cannot resort to anything. The groundings of my life are far away.
I met a sad man in my travels who said I must learn acceptance, but in his eyes I saw disappointment. How can the teacher impart a wisdom in which he does not believe? How can one wear a smile over anger that shows through?
Today, at this moment, I hate it here, and I despise myself for weakly, resignedly, putting myself in this position. Once, I cried in sadness and thought my decision was inevitable. Now, I see it was only a fork in the road. Had I been prescient, I would have realized I had been given a sign which required more weighing, but I was tired and chose too quickly. In a strange church, I prayed for guidance and thought my prayers went unanswered. I didn’t realize the list of supplicants was long. Now the sign has been delivered. The road was a circle and I am back at the fork.
This time I must make the right choice. I hope those I left behind will have me back.