A trip to the moon

Tuesday, September 05, 2023

...but help me pack my luggage before we go go. 

Can you be partly in inertia and partly panicking? If so, I'm there; I can feel my heart pacing but I'm also sitting legs up and writing this like I'm about to spend a week-long holiday out of my bed. It's a holiday alright, but it won't be anything like spending a week in bed. Although there's nothing wrong about being in bed. Sinner succinctly explained, "Just think of this as you escaping the bed," which is true if you know me on holiday. 

I could be researching on my Excel sheet of places to go to and eat at and shop from and where to meet local cuties but I'm passively rolling through this. Yesterday, when I booked the flight, an entire table full of women cheered on and a few stepped up to tell others, "She's getting engaged!" and "She's going for her bachelorette" which was cute until it was followed by a round of applause from the entire office and then it became fucking hilarious. Adults need a small line to be psyched for others; for some of us, food is the reason, and for others it's milestones. 

Truth be told, I would be shitting bricks if this were any of the two listed above—which is funny cause even when it's not, I'm still shitting bricks. It's been five years since I visited my favourite country in the world and as I make my way back there this week, everything about my youth reflects. I had no fucks or fear, I could just pack a bag and move. Today, I look back at that shitless version fondly and romanticize. Is it because I'm wiser or is it because I'm out of dopamine? I don't know. A closest friend said I'm too wise and way too much in control which is why it's hitting like this. For me, it also feels like a rebirth and redux of it all. 

An hour ago, I found myself catching up on the life of an erstwhile friend. We've grown up and grown out of the love we had for each other and naturally, I expected the course of our life to be similar, if not the same. However, seeing them flourish in a different light was heartening but at the same time made me question what have I done since. Do I celebrate staying alive in survival mode with all the shitstorms I dealt with (which I know, I rightly should), or do I lament the life I could have had if everything went according to my plans. 

Whenever I look back at the crossroads where I made a different choice than those who were on that journey with me, it makes me feel nauseated. Kinda like right now, I can smell chicken broth and mince on my top, which I wore to get a few passport-sized images shot and then stopped for a quick snack before I get the fuck out for long. Lots of things make complete sense about why I feel the distance doesn't make the heart feel fonder but again, I find it hard to relate to even myself from 4-5 years ago. I recall just booking the tickets for my second international trip in two months when I was making peanuts and today when I actually should be able to afford a reckless activity like that, I go from tab to tab in figuring, "Must I?"

I truly don't know if what I've done is right or not, which is to say, planning to bounce and fuck off to take time off from everything that's been up professionally and then some personally. Care can mean a lot of things to a lot of people. For me, it might mean keeping myself safe, whether it means being reckless or being too safe. For my doctor, it might mean telling me to change my scenery so I can ensure I'm not depressed beyond permissible limits (aka not pull a Sylvia Plath, which I don't intend on). Care can also reflect in the gestures of a man, whom I first met a year ago, and realised he was looking out for me when he prevented me from a possible road accident earlier last month over a long walk. Care could mean your friends actually celebrating the fact that you're going out and leaving a lot of shit behind and it can sort itself out when you're back. 

Whatever it be, I hope it ends with me 35,000 feet high up in the sky as a way of celebrating my 32nd birthday. 

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