In times of confusion, panic, and insecurity, I write.
I’m sitting in my tiny apartment in the heart of the village, finally in a city I’ve dreamed about since I was 8, but all I can think about are all the places that I still want to explore. After breaking a leg (don’t skateboard without shoes on) and having a surgery that left me literally laying on my ass all day, my mind was a whirlwind of places and faces and things to see.
I made lists and lists of places to visit. I reached out to friends who live around the globe securing places to stay. I looked at Airbnbs all around. This earth is full of beautiful architecture, people, fashion, etc. that I haven’t seen.
Am I missing it? Should I have signed a 12 month lease?
Does permanence mean comfortability?
I think it’s funny, I’m finally in a city I’ve dreamed of my whole life and I’m questioning it. I’m questioning if this is where I really belong. This makes me wonder if I’ll ever be completely content with where I am. Is there ever true bliss? Or is life always a “grass is greener situation”?
Thank you for reading a bit of my mind.
all my love,