Where was I in the last few weeks?
What happened to me in the last few weeks?
I disappeared from my blog and I wish I could have disappeared from my life too.
No good news on this side of the world. No good news for me.
Since my birthday, I realised that I need to come to terms with quite a few things about my life and my future.
Things that I somehow left aside for a long time. Now I cannot afford anymore to simply remove them from my sight and say “I’ll think of it later”.
I’ve been given many advices one on all is a straightforward “Take it easy”. I know this is just another phase of life, where at some point you have to decide what to do with your future. I know very well that working few months here and few months there wont do any good to me, my bank account and my self esteem.
Where is the solution? In a word that I do not like pronouncing, writing thinking. That word is “home”. Home as back to where I come from, back to a life style that does not belong to me anymore. Back to a country that every single person that I may talk to, describes as “beautiful”.
I cannot see that beauty. There is a huge difference between living and visiting a country. It is difficult to explain, but I somehow feel defeated.
What happened to me in the last few weeks?
I disappeared from my blog and I wish I could have disappeared from my life too.
No good news on this side of the world. No good news for me.
Since my birthday, I realised that I need to come to terms with quite a few things about my life and my future.
Things that I somehow left aside for a long time. Now I cannot afford anymore to simply remove them from my sight and say “I’ll think of it later”.
I’ve been given many advices one on all is a straightforward “Take it easy”. I know this is just another phase of life, where at some point you have to decide what to do with your future. I know very well that working few months here and few months there wont do any good to me, my bank account and my self esteem.
Where is the solution? In a word that I do not like pronouncing, writing thinking. That word is “home”. Home as back to where I come from, back to a life style that does not belong to me anymore. Back to a country that every single person that I may talk to, describes as “beautiful”.
I cannot see that beauty. There is a huge difference between living and visiting a country. It is difficult to explain, but I somehow feel defeated.
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