Last week lasted the usual amount of days but for me, it was almost like it was infinite. Many decisions took place and slowly and painlessly my future crystallized a bit. What moving on means to me is that I am ready to accept that my current self is nearing the end of its self-expression; that I gave it all and that I am tired of continuing as I am. It means that I feel something in me trying to take place. And surprisingly I found out that moving on no longer meant abandoning where I was or what I used to be. Before it was easy to step back and allow myself to be a clean slate. Even allow others to define me as they pleased. And that was that.

But this time I tried to connect the dots and really wanted to share my next journey with someone who knew me well for a moment. The silence that followed was surprisingly not cumbersome and it didn’t struck a chord with any specific emotion. Even the regret wasn’t there anymore. Instead of being heart-broken and deciding that this time too, I will let myself be defined by others and start again from the beginning because that was that, I instead said yeah, so what, I need to keep some of those lessons I learned this time. 

A series of meeting men and women for the shortest possible time and then never thinking of them again. That awful jibe under my ribs when I knew about myself that I would be completely worthless to anyone who saw beauty, optimism, and light in the world. The fact that I tried to destroy any semblance of myself to a human being who cares. And the fact that I succeeded. All of those lessons will follow me and define me as I leave this continent again.

It will be good. The sea and wind and pulsating city. The next couple of stories will come from Sydney.

(picture by Patryk)