Old dreams make way for new dreams.
And maybe it's time to dream a new dream. Maybe it's time to leave the UK, finally. While I still have the blind ambition that youth sometimes affords. Maybe it's time to go, again, and forgive and forget all the pain and atrocities that the past 9 and a half years have held.
Maybe all this pain and discomfort is forcing me to go. Why has it taken me so long to see this?
Fear. The fear of the unknown prevents me from wanting to go, although I know I should. I am the only person I know, who remains stuck in the same life situation, going up and down the same staircase leading to nowhere. Everyone I used to know is married, and coupled off, having children and achieving their life dreams. And beyond the pain, shock and bitterness, I am happy for them because after all what is the point of harbouring grudges?
What is the point, and for god's sake why am I still here?
Fear. Is this dream, even a possibility? How would I survive in another country, and what would I do? Other than write? How could I afford to live abroad? Who would I speak to? Who would I socialise with? Would I be a student? Teach English? Christ. What am I even thinking of?
France.
or. Italy.
No comments
Post a Comment