These are the best months of my life, and I’ve been spending it by my lonesome. And, as I’m finding, there isn’t really anything wrong with this choice to keep to myself on most days, for I am just exhausted dragging baggage around. It’s good to pack light, pack only essentials, pack only those that endure.
The alone time is really making me question everything I thought I wanted (and not wanted) out of life, and in the company I keep. At 19, being prompted to rethink preferences is a good thing. While I’m shrugging off eternal truths for the time being, this trial and error method is not working out so bad either.
Or perhaps, this is just the after-hours me talking. Aside from school and org responsibilities, I’ve been working for a psych clinic for a month now, and my job is basically to write love stories.. only they end up in annulments. It is kind of ironic that I’m relying on people’s last resort escape routes for my own. Said psych reports that are later on submitted in court fund my newly-reinstated wanderlust, and though it has been a couple of weeks since I actually packed a 40L backpack and disappeared into some far corner of an expressway, I’m all too glad just knowing I can take off whenever I please — an eternal homecoming.