For some reason, I don't feel like I can sleep before I write a few things down. First of all, this city makes me strangely anxious. It's a mild sensation, like someone is pressing gently on my sternum, or a very vague tightness that won't seem to go away. I find this place intimidating, and oddly humbling. Perhaps the place is a coincidence, and the anxiety is something I brought with me. The latter seems significantly more likely.
I'm beginning to realize that you actually can escape your life; that is, the trappings we call our lives. Work, School, Bills, Parties, Drama. You can, with just a little pocket money, so fully remove yourself from the familiar that you're too busy taking in all the new to remember your life at all. But what really defines your life, outside of the worldly exterior of being an adult, is something from which you cannot escape. Your doubts, insecurities, big hips and shitty attitude are not subject to international borders, customs agents, bag claim. In a way, you can escape, but just be prepared to turn around and find yourself staring back, free of the murkiness of "life" through which you've been viewing yourself all this time.
I came here to get away, to gain some perspective and clear my head. I figured there would be some pain, but I'm starting to realize the worst is yet to come.
I can't let myself believe that I was only good enough because you loved me, but my greatest fear is that I already have.