Reckless Abandon.
I’m completely in limbo, and I’ll say something about myself that I’d never say about anyone else: I’m driving me crazy.
We’ve got five weeks before we leave for our
and restlessness and boredom have combined to make the most toxic, frustrating cocktail. I’m struggling to find motivation for anything, yet constantly trying to seek out some kind of stimulation to entertain me for a minute. Instagram. Youtube. Work. But it’s never enough. Until I shut the front door and step on to my NYC bound flight, I don’t think anything is ever going to feel
enough.
So I need to wait. Try to keep my mind still, or at least set it to work on worthwhile things which are going to get me somewhere. This is the impact travel has on me. It’s addictive. The only times I feel remotely productive or at peace are when I’m taking long, long walks, taking hot baths or carefully preparing a meal I then spend an hour slowly stirring on the stove until it simmers right down and becomes beautiful and thick.
Outside the air gets colder and colder. I’ve given all of my clothes away so there’s next to nothing to guard me from the chill, so I spend the days scurrying to Starbucks with frosty fingers. Leaves turn to mulch at my feet. The light leaves too soon.
There’s things to be done before we leave. Pass my driving test. Say some more goodbyes. Finally clear out the flat, which currently feels like a form of torture (where do
things
come from, and where should they go?) There’s nothing reckless about my lack of concern for almost everything. It’s completely
restless.
I’m basically ranting, but it makes everything feel a little less cluttered in my head. Do you ever feel like that?
Like you’re just waiting impatiently for something to happen, waiting to live properly?
