Crazy to think how fast the first half of this year has gone by, but in a way it also hasn’t.
I’ve been back in Singapore almost two months, and will probably be here for six more, as insane as that sounds given the last 4.5 years of my life.
I don’t think I’ve felt quite so much at a crossroads in my life in the recent years. It’s always been easy, the answers always sure, definite, a resounding ‘yes’.
But now, I border on ‘maybe’s verging on ‘perhaps’e, and tether on the edge of falling over one way or the other, neither (none?) of the paths quite convincing enough for me to throw caution to the wind and run, wild, fast, free.
In any case, we’ve reached an impasse, my wandering feet and I. My feet ache, they long for a fireplace to warm them, for the sea to caress them, for someone to rub them with love and care and soothe away the aches of years on the road. But I? With each passing day trapped in this concrete jungle, I grow restless with unease, and a certain listlessness follows.
I do not belong here, and this place knows it. It itches to spit me out, to toss me back to the nomadic paths I’ve trod, and the ones that my heart yearns for, despite not knowing where they lead. I have no room here, and this place knows it.
The next six months (or thereabouts, there is no end date to this self-imposed sentence yet) will be … interesting. I hope I shall not kill myself, or anyone else around me, and that the people around me aren’t pushed to kill me first.
Perhaps a bigger hope, a stronger hope, is that my path forward will reveal itself with such force and flamboyance that it would be impossible to ignore.
It’s always been so easy to know what my path was, even when I had no idea where I was going, even when I had no idea what came next. Even when I had no idea who I was or what I was doing.
When did things get so confusing?
When did this post get so heavy. Meh. Happy 2nd Half of 2018, everyone.