"When you live abroad for a week, you write a book. When you live abroad for a month, you write an article. When you live abroad for a year, you write nothing at all".
In a couple of weeks time it would be exactly one year that I have been in this new country. One year since I've uprooted myself and moved across the word, just on a whim. Almost a year later I find myself nowhere near any of the goals that I have set myself. No career, no money, no increased lust of life. Instead, I stagnated, stifling in this damp, gloomy air. Too stingy to live life to the fullest and too bitter to care.
However, a strange thing happened. In the midst of all this pretentious bullshit about growing up and "finding oneself", I fell in love. The sad part of it all is this is probably the only thing I DIDN'T come here to do.
Oy vey. Fate sure is a funny bitch.
In a couple of weeks time it would be exactly one year that I have been in this new country. One year since I've uprooted myself and moved across the word, just on a whim. Almost a year later I find myself nowhere near any of the goals that I have set myself. No career, no money, no increased lust of life. Instead, I stagnated, stifling in this damp, gloomy air. Too stingy to live life to the fullest and too bitter to care.
However, a strange thing happened. In the midst of all this pretentious bullshit about growing up and "finding oneself", I fell in love. The sad part of it all is this is probably the only thing I DIDN'T come here to do.
Oy vey. Fate sure is a funny bitch.
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