Maybe these are the nights she was telling me about when you just aren’t able to sleep but you can’t seem to pinpoint what it is that is keeping you awake. Needing a place to explore these inhabited feelings unable to feel as though you are expressing yourself (why aren’t I articulate?). Writing will never be forte neither will be photography but you do it anyway. Yearning to feel something more than what this present life gives you, unsure how to attain it- yet a state of euphoria. Hugging someone you only met for a month but feel this deep bond that you find yourself fallen to the ground in shock. Catching yourself in pilot mode. Wishing for that moment when you are feel “this is right, this is where I need to be” it’s probably on top of a mountain somewhere, gotta go find my mountain. Not making any sense. Watching life move forward back at home, you feel a little heartbroken as though you never existed but you know you did, you’re just a little vain. Avoid calling home scared of all the hidden ignored feelings that you locked inside yourself. Feeling guilty for not feeling any homesickness but you regret nothing for leaving Sydney behind. Feeling over dramatic. Writing horribly, yet an urge to post it. Trying to establish a sense of relevancy back at home.
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