I love vacations as much as anyone but while I pack, as I leave my house to go to the airport or bus station or whatever, I kind of miss my house already.
I like to take a look around before stepping out and I smile to it. Yes, it being the house. My bed, my tv, my things. I smile at them all as if I’m saying goodbye to a friend. A smile that means I’ll miss you and can’t wait to be reunited because we always have so much fun together.
Am I just a weirdo or does this just mean I found home?
Love is great and all, don’t get me wrong. And maybe I’m saying this because I’m currently at a standstill with love.
Love is great and all but having a friend you can call in the middle of the night or after months of not speaking and having everything be normal, crawling in to bed with someone just to cry your eyes out and have them hold you or just feel their presence…having someone who accepts that with no judgment, that is incomparable.
After my anxiety emerged, every time I need to get on a plane I have to remind myself of all the rewards it has once you land.
I’m not passionate about a whole lot of things but travel is one of the most rewarding things in life and I refuse to be the person who stops myself from doing it.
So as I do my breathing excersises I will chant to myself: mind over matter. Mind over matter. Until it gets through my head, for however long it takes. And I will make it through that flight with the calmness I had before anxiety. Or I’m sure as hell gonna try.
I watched Big Fish the other day and in the opening scene the narrator explained his relationship with his father using this phrase:
“We were like strangers who knew eachother very well. ”
I love it. It kind of sums up my relationship with my father too.
I’m not sure if this happens to everyone, or someone for that matter. But every time I go on vacation, whether it’s a long weekend away or a full month off, the first day and night fills me with anxiety.
I’m somewhere new, everything is different. It drives me crazy. I just lay in bed thinking, why did I choose this? I want my home, my bed, my comfort zone. It always takes me a while to fall asleep but I always eventually do and the next morning I wake up and remember how amazing it is to have the opportunity to be somewhere new, a new town, country or even continent. I take a deep breath, smile and do what I should’ve from the begining: enjoy.
Sometimes I smoke. Rarely, almost never. But sometimes I do. Just because I can.
I hate the smell and the aftertaste and Cancer. Fuck Cancer. But when I smoke, I don’t really know why. Maybe it’s a very specific mood I’m in because it really only ever happens once a year. Sometimes I think I do it just because I can. Because I’m an adult and no one can stop me. Isn’t that what adulthood is all about anyhow? Buying all the chocolate you want at the supermarket and having cereal for dinner?
But today, I smoked to be someone I’m not. The complete opposite of myself. It was a defiance to my highschool goody two shoes who never skipped class or got high at prom. I had a cigarette in my grown up house, on my grown up balcony, even littered, just to feel like a rebel for five minutes in my life. And I’m not gonna lie, I liked it.