This island I call home

JOURNAL August 15, 2018

After three months on this island I call home,

I see how lightheartedly I left home and all things I could trace by heart under my fingertips,

landed on the other side of the world to untangle my collection of knots,

and gave myself a one-year-long break from growing up, snoozing alarms and expensive pilates classes.

 

 

I’ve finally realised that you don’t need to have it all figured out yet,

that if you want to go from A to B, you don’t necessarily have to go through the paved path, that it’s o.k. to stumble into wrong jobs,

long-term hostel stays

and people who won’t stick around.

 

 

 

So here’s to another handful of months of temporary jobs, cereals for dinner and

late nights spent booking flights.

 

Here’s to giving myself another shot to prove myself wrong,

because maybe,

after all,

not all things are meant to be the way you were taught. 

 

Because maybe,

after all,

you can change the flow of your days and find your way to reach point B

whatever,

wherever,

whoever

that is.

 

 

 

It can be fun letting go of right and wrong, a stable income and a balanced diet,

and trust your guts.

 

 

You may end up in the right place

 

at the right time.

 

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