I’m doing it again. Even though I’ve said a couple of ‘probably never again‘s’ these past few months, I’m taking the leap and jumping into the abyss of the unknown once more. In the same place, under different circumstances.
In January of this year, I left London behind to go after something big, to follow the heap of love that I had known for years. Back to safety. And as it turns out, back to the place in which I cannot grow. It started out lovely, but ended with me feeling stuck, down, with a surface cracked because of the soul within that needed the space to grow but didn’t find it in this familiar little city.
There is a comparison I keep making, when it comes to London and my hometown.  In the six months that I spent hours on end walking along the Thames, so many things happened, I have so many stories to tell and memories to look back on, leaving me with either a smile on my face or a stomach that aches from laughter. Now, I’ve been back in the Netherlands for roughly the same amount of time, and other than getting the job I wanted and some nice days here and there, not a lot has been going on. Still a smile, but no deep feelings. But I need my stories. I need to be able to tap into the past and feel my heart racing as I picture everything that happened back then. To think about nights well spent, days that end with aching feet, a journal full of short sentences explaining moments that may have otherwise been gone forever. To put it in the simplest of ways: I need shit to write about.

And yes, I did find safety here. I know who to rely on and a future back in the city I grew up in would be dimly lit – bright in the softest of ways. There is love, there’s some nature and there are those occasional boozy nights that I shouldn’t but do love. All would be well, all would be happy.
But we’re not here for mere happiness. We’re here for pure joy. And there is nothing that I love more than having no idea what tomorrow will bring, to be stomped on by life and crawling out of the hole stronger than you ever thought to be achievable. Meeting new people, drinking actual good coffee and walking for miles on end without setting foot in the same place twice. That is what makes me want to wake up in the morning. That’s who I am. That, to me, is what joy looks like.

Not chasing after a life you want – even though doing so might scratch someone else’s ego, soul, or heart – is a betrayal, both to yourself and everyone you involve in it. It doesn’t have to be pretty, but it has to be pure. It doesn’t have to be easy, it has to be true. If you want something to change, go make a fucking change. You’ll get there. You’ll find it. Just show up every day with a smile on your face and a spirit of getting shit done.

As for me.. In order to expand myself, I need to cross boundaries and do things that people will dislike me for. That’s the way life is, and though it may not be easy, it will always be worth it. Now, adventure no. 2 is calling and I’m going to grab it by the loins and start boogieing into the thrill of the unknown. See you on the other side.



(Edit: plans changed, I changed, situations changed. Though this idea felt right in my heart when I wrote this, London and I are having a long-distance relationship and we’re very happy this way.)

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