bus-seat thinking

U.K. Days | November 2016

I was sitting in one of those never-on-time buses and staring out of the window realized how I can’t cope with bad weather, the wind getting to your bones and the tasteless food. I often find myself wondering where I’ll be walking next year, what my breakfast will be and if I’ll finally learn how to run, to choose wine and to speak in public without blushing. I’m not sure where I’m going from here, but I promised myself it’ll be random hikes, good coffee and jobs that don’t get my butt stuck in an uncomfortable chair, my eyes not scrolling handfuls of emails and my teeth not decomposing fast meals.

Maybe it’s because the idea of routine turns me asthmatic, making the air feel thicker every time I inhale, that I attempt to avoid any kind of roots-building, double-dates and kissing in public. Maybe these are the why I spend whole afternoons booking my next getaway, picking new continents to settle in, collecting ideas on how to furnish my wheeled home and the colors of its wooden ceilings.

Well, I’ll have to go, my stir-fried vegetables are burning and my flight website session is almost timed up. Thank you for reading my diary, see you next time for another “I Don’t Know What to Do With my Head Anymore, Sorry Dad For Not Being a Dream-Daughter and I Might as Well Learn a New Language and Move Somewhere Tropical” episode.


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