Moving on

My dad's a genius, and a fucking imbecile. He's incredibly good at the tasks he fixates on, and through this process loses, what would be to me, essential threads of self-awareness. He's quick to anger, and disagrees heavily before the conversation has really started. He always thinks his ideas are better, and expresses them in a tightly arrogant way, with his nose flicked up; utterly intoxicated by his own brilliance.

He's deeply generous, and wants me around. But he parades and brags and speeches about how wonderful it is that we're making waves with our closeness, 'breaking down barriers' and so on. And yet, when we did have those few intimate conversations, I had to crawl my own way out after he walked me into my deepest wounds and then abandoned me the moment he became distracted by phone calls and building structures. Somehow forgetting - or worse - actively thinking it's cool to dip a toe in the trauma and carry on as if nothing happened. Then of course, brag tales about how miraculous the whole experience was.

I don't want to be here anymore, that's the truth. I don't like being around him. But I don't know where I go next. And I don't know how to pull myself out of all of this. He's got me insured here, he's got me a gym membership. But I don't want to be here. And I don't know where I go. I wanna go North, to the Northern Hemisphere, but I've no means to get or settle there.

Maybe above all, I'm searching for a community that's mine. People that feel safe and understanding. Who I agree with their values and choices, their courage, their intelligence, their kindness.

It's not to say things are bad here. The kindness and generosity has been great. But it's not my fit. I'm not feeling that it's my fit. I've been hoping things would change, but now I'm starting to think I need to actually listen to and drive my feelings some direction, else I'll keep feeling I'm floating depressively, hating on myself for my own inaction.

I can't help but wonder that I'll never find what I'm looking for. Am I crazy for thinking that there's always more answers? Or is this some purgatorial setup I'm curating for myself?