So many new thoughts have entered my overactive mind in the last few weeks. While I love my adventurous side (and still have a dozen more countries that I would like to see), I have this need to settle down. No, I don’t necessarily mean having kids, getting married, buying a house and investing in things. I mean, I want to find a place that I can call home. This has been all too difficult for the past few years because I’ve had to move apartments, countries and cities every 2-4 months for work or because of a lease that has ended. It’s left me somewhat bitter in that I have to pack up everything I own once again and try to make a new place “homey”. So once again, it’s been a total of 6 weeks in this new place and I have to move out. Just lovely.
After almost seven weeks in a brand new country, you would think that I would have a lot to say. In actuality, I’m struggling to find my words. The age old irony of the writer that has lost her words.
While I felt immense dread before coming to Spain, I naively had a thought that perhaps things would be different for me. Surely there is a place, a man, and a career out there in one or other country waiting for me to grab it? Sadly, Spain has proven to be quite a let down and truthfully… it’s all my fault.
I left London. I left the chaos of London. I left the disappointment of England. I left behind the love/hate relationship that I was in with the country, with the city. While I know that living there made my dreams come true, professionally, I feel as though I have failed.
I felt that feeling in the upper half of my chest that I get when men break up with me. I would say it was my heart that was aching, but we all know that isn’t literally it. The feeling can only be described as a physical cry out for help, from the inside out. It’s a selfish feeling for it will not allow you not to cry – regardless of circumstances, where you are or who you are with. That feeling doesn’t care about you.
I should have known when you persisted to call me by my childhood name that this was not going to go anywhere profound. I’m not that person anymore (or at least I’d like to think so). Something keeps pulling me back though. It was as if you know that I would be taken back to that negative train of thought and hatred for myself.
Just when I thought my life couldn’t get any better. When I thought I had figured out the secret to living a happy life – everything came crashing down. I am back to the place where I know that life isn’t about being happy, it’s about continuously searching for more.
To my body, I am sorry. I fucked up. I worked hard at respecting you and my mind. I fucked up.
in the midst of gifts i don’t say thank you
there is always something to be angry about
one thing that makes me more and more bitter