Moving on

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)