55. leaving on a jet plane
when you come home, you enter back in the shell of old clothes and habits. it's good to buy some new ones. i bought some new ones.
when you come home, you clean up the mess you realize was waiting for you in your room when you left. it's good to make some choices, throw away what you don't need and keep the souvenirs and artifacts. i kept the souvenirs and artifacts. and then some.
i'm a keeper. i'm also a loser. i'm a spender. i'm also a saver.
i spent a lot of what i stored and received on this trip. a full debit card thanks to mom and grandma's allowance. highballs from the convenience store, shirts and CDs.
walking up hills in a full sweat, cafes and notebooks, reunions and road trips along the coast of the yellow sea.
i used to walk these streets with a different bounce to my step. less buzz. less gust.
and some things remain the same. fall into the same pits, reach for the same juicy fruits. only, what once was pleasure is now disappointment, what once was shame is now curiosity. i guess there's growth in compassion.
i feel it's time for me to go. time for me to fly. to leave here before the sparkling pond turns into a swamp. it's time for me to, well, keep living, but back where i was.
i'm scared. i'm actually terrified. it's so comfortable here. i can continue to eat and get fat here, satisfying my gluttony. but i don't want this balloon to pop, i will not let that happen. because i realize there are some important things that i care about and want to do with my life. and i want to treat myself right.
i'm afraid, and i'm curious. i'm lonely, and i'm whimsical. i'm nervous, and i'm excited.
be safe.