I have packed my backpack. I still need a few bits and pieces, but I am ready to go. My flat is half packed too. My life fits into a box, a suitcase and my orange backpack. There is nothing else I own. It feels weird not having so much stuff. I feel homeless, but relived. I feel like someone has lifted a heavy burden off my shoulders. Next week I’m going to be saying my final good byes to London.
I have my itinerary ready. A list of places I want to see is waiting to be ticked off.
I feel a little bit more excited, little less sad…but it will still be hard to leave. I am focused on my goals for the next few months: have fun, meet people, feel like myself again, forget the past, and find my own place in this world. I hope that I will finally hear a calling of a city I want to live in. I hope that I will fall in love with one lifestyle and finally settle down, not matter if it’s Bangkok, Melbourne, or London.
I had quite a bit of time to think about my feelings and my plans. I know that I felt lost for the last weeks or so, because I don’t have particular plan and no goals, so I have set them up. They might not come true, but at least I have something to work towards.
I also discovered that my feelings for the Kid are a bit deeper than just sexual desire. I, in face, might be in love….and this means trouble. Trouble, because I will have my heart broken – it already has some cracks.
He spent a night at mine and he has just left. Last evening and the whole night were amazing. Suddenly sex doesn’t feel like sex, it feels like love making. It’s slow and sensual, and so beautiful that sometimes I feel like crying.
I was lying in bed next to him, cuddling and I almost told him that I have fallen for him, but expressing my emotions is almost close to impossible. I usually need to get drunk to spit something out, especially if it’s something profound. So, I will keep my mouth shut and one day, when I’m far away, I will send him a message saying how much I like him. For now, I will just try to keep my heart in one piece.