c’est la vie

I’ve been back for two days, and it already feels like I’ve been here forever, but thankfully not as though I never left. I had to remember the rules of maneuvering my way through a major commuter station in NYC: walk too fast, and you bump into people; walk too slow, and they bump in to you; avoid sharp turns, and instead merge with the crowd and then slowly divert; and by all means, don’t get lost in your daydreams or internal conflicts. I don’t want to be living in NY, yet I do. I don’t want to be living at home, but I don’t want to live anywhere else. I don’t want to move to the city, yet I am. I don’t want to be social, but I don’t want to be anti-social. I want to be comfortable, at ease, and I am, but I'm not. I don’t want to go to work, but I don’t have a choice. I don’t want to go back to school, yet I do. Yet I really do. I fantasize about going back to school, yet I dread it. I want to write, but it’s not my first priority. I want to be selfless, but the selfish gene is screaming out, “I want, I want, I want” (did I get this Bellow quote right?). “If I am not for myself, who will be for me? If I am not for others, what am I?”

What am I?