I really need to pee but I just really want to write this. As a footprint, a breadcrumb trail. Paris is in my sights and I'm crushed by the feeling that there's nothing here for me. The people I love are here and I'll carry them with me everywhere. What I need is a total change of pace, scenery, routine and perspective. Since I was like 17 I had a wild obsession with Paris, and the fashion week, the complex history and design of the city.
Just by looking intently at a building it grabs my attention, as if by my face - firmly but so lovingly encouraging me to see truly with my eyes what has been and what could be. Just this last wednesday morning I landed home safety with a little more than the luggage i had packed and taken with me. I came back alone, my sister spending her first few days back in london. When her and poppa rolled down the driveway i tried not to cry. She said "today I can't cry" while we weighed her suitcases. I sobbed into my nana's shoulder as she reminded me "this is positive. we need to think of her having fun and doing something she's wanted to do for a long time". She also reminded me to not be selfish. But i hear in books and poetry that love is selfish. It's never been nor will be my intention to have people around at the cost of their goals in life. And i won't start with my sister! "she's used to having you around now" said nana as they sat around the dining room table. I was in their guest bedroom wiping hot tears away before anyone saw.
Anyways, it feels so quiet not having her in my vicinity. And every shift in the bar feels like groundhog day. I want some excitement and to explore the world. To experiement with different mediums of creativity and to find a vessel or two in which to share some things.
as i was serving customers today, i've decided to move to paris.everyone who travels tells me the see-saw of 'just i go, should i not go?' and how they always say to 'just do it'. I know they're probably talking about their 2 week vacay in greece or whereever but seriously, i think i've got to bite the bullet and move there.
THis is going to be so good for me. I can work towards this goal i've set for myself spiritually, mentally, physically, emotionally and financially. The weeks will be tough. I'll be busy and dirt poor. But the reward is so worth it. My goal is to find balance and harmony within myself along this journey. And to also care for myself consitently -- to rely on myself and my judgement.
In terms of where in paris, im not certain of a specific area just yet. I know that skyscapers really aren't my thing without favouring the droning lawnmowers of the suburbs. A happy hustle and bustle medium would suit me. Great nightlife. Community based/daily connection through resturaunts and cafes, markets and public gardens/parks. Like anyone, I dream of living in a unique loft with a balcony overlooking those tin roofs. i'll work at paloma wool or something cool.
what needs to be sorted are the very basics. To me, those are going to be
I'm excited to b on my own. One of my bigger reasons to move is to be closer to my sis in london. I really miss her.
To be so honest, I think i'll fucking hate it there. The first day will hopefully feel really good. I'm on my own path and there's no turning back. Something like-- i've got a perfect apartment in a great area and a temporary job lined up to get my by comfortably. And then i'll realise that i really am alone. And i've done this to myself. How i regret choosing last minute not to pack this one tshirt that i love. Or the tap water tastes funny. Maybe my sister decides to move back to melbourne or new zealand. And then i'll latch onto the idea of everything apparently being perfectly fine at home. I'll watch to move back and complain that i have no one to call or text or hug. Knowing myself, i'll back pedal a LOT. But then things will be fine just where i am. The perspective of me, moving to another country by myself, will sink in and i'll make the most of this opportunity that i have. Perspective. PERSPECTIVE. That's what i want in live. That's what i would really love.
the addiction to images. i've been stuck in a rut, the sides cascading down towards my face and stacking solidly at my sides. restricting all movement. like how people are laid to rest in the ground, but i am without plush comfort of cheap silks and cotton to comfortably slumber forever. I get major anxietty about my pinterest. all the images. every single one, all of them. I had to log into my pinterest account on a different browser and was pulled into a digital tangeant as i set it up on an old throwaway yahoo.mail account. the same one i used to doomscroll pro ana columns self-pitifully once upon a time. i had to reset the password and entered a variation of the one password i've always used. i keep it like a well watered and sunned flower. every time ending it one of a million ways -- like how you might trim a tall trees dead palms. or maybe how you might graft a cacti with another species of its kind.
i've been insufferable today. my friend has a concussion and has been colouring in a lot. so i bought a colouring book too. and some pens that were on sale. and i've been sat here in the lounge colouring in childish pictures of farms and aesthetic bathrooms with plants in all corners and hanging from the ceiling. the outlined pages look like something out of adventur time and thats what drew me in. i also saw a girl on tiktok who smokes weed and colours the same pages in -- only nicer and cuter. im just bored of the colours i had. if i had every colour that i needed then i probably wouldn't rush my masterpiece, colouring outsside of the lines and bleeding deep blues into light pinks. i rush because i want it to be finished. so i wont be bored of it and move on, scribbling all over every page and ruining something good i had.
since returning from austrlia, i've been desperate to quit my job. but i know that if i quit without something lined up i won't find any work. and i'll be more stuck than ever. i could stay and save up, move into somewhere and start another job and THEN quit. or i could find another job on the fly, hopefully in two weeks and quit this weekend. or i could quit my job and join a nightclub. or i could stay at this job and get my managers certificate. or i could stay at this job and save up to fly to another country and go backpacking/worldpacking. i'm so tired of being consistently poor and overworked. im somehow over and under worked. everything is inconsistent and ever-changing. when i manage to get my fingers caught undert he roots of something it reroots someplace else -- waiting for me to take hold of it again, only to reroot again and again. time after time, im left scrambling. i'm surrounded by addiction and selfishness. im misunderstood by even the people closest to me. i dont even know who i am. i look to the people around me for quidance and validation becuase they have made me this way for their advantage of me. to have a pawn to play. i feel like nothing more than an accesory or half-burned candle. i was blown out prematuerly and expected to catch alight just the same as before. and now i dont get moved from the shelf underneath the tv cabinet because i dont burn right. im ruined. and its a production fault. i came out of the machine this way. i was always supposed to be a waste of money and time. and now the friend who gifted me to you feels bad for giving you such a shitty gift. "sorry, my mum loves these candles and she recommended them to me. I could probably return it or get you a new one."
im in a place between recalling and forgetting, constantly. my memories are not my own anymore - i cant recall anything without the help of others. and that upsets me because the people who help me remember are not the ones i can bear to be around. i think ive mixed up my memories with stuff i dont actually like to remember. like, my memories are never positive.