Sometimes you don’t know what the path is that should be yours. You don’t know which way to go. You haven’t got a clue what the answer should be if someone were to ever ask. How does someone “know”? And what about different paths: are there different ones for everyone and depending on which one you choose, you end up somewhere else? Or as someone else? Or is there just one? And if you can’t find that one, then you’ll forever be feeling unfulfilled, continually searching, never knowing what it is you should be doing with your life? That’s a desperate thought if I ever heard one.
I wonder what path I should be on. I’ve wondered for a long time and I still do. But I feel like recently, I may be on the right one at last.
It’s small stuff, you see, that makes me feel I may have found it. It’s not like a massive fork in the road and suddenly you see the big arrow pointing right going “this is it biyotch!”. But it’s like… you find a job you like. And it turns out somewhere in the back of your mind it was always meant to be a bold choice. Even the back of my iPad knew that freedom lies in being bold. It knew months before I made the jump, long before I even knew there was going to be a fork at all. And to tell you the truth, the fork was entirely of my own making, so even that wasn’t something I really knew in advance.
And then your new co-workers turn out to be… friends? Call me cheesy like a pizza crust, but that’s new to me. Sure, I’ve had people at work I was friendly with and who I miss seeing and talking to every day. But no one would ever think of helping me move, for example. I mean, boundaries yo! English culture is a distant culture, both physical and emotional. It’s not something I find I am missing, though it takes some getting used to that distance is no longer required. It’s like a mental voice now that tells me “yes, this is allowed, you’re not in London anymore darlin’ so go ahead and just be you”. Wack. But the good kind of wack.
And then, the path seems to clear up a little more still. It’s in things like finding an apartment that smells of dust and paint and smoke, but somehow is located next door to an amazing coffee roaster. From working at a coffee company to now savouring a perfect flat white, knowing what it means to savour one. The past really never felt so far away, and yet so close in a new city with new places to discover. Even during a dusty shower I could see myself living there for real, I could feel this was meant to be home. And I suffer from dustmite allergy, so I’m taking that as a great sign.
It’s mind boggling to think of my life 3 months ago. Or 6 months ago. It’s like another life. Another lifetime. Where did all that time go, I wonder. Where will all my time go, I wonder.
Time is a fickle thing, I suppose. We never know how much of it we’re going to get, so we try our best to enjoy every moment. But in between the hustle and bustle, routine kicks in and complacency means we stop trying so hard. Or at least I stopped trying so hard, for a while at least. There’s no shame in it. Not even regret, really. Just lessons learned, which is pretty much all you can ask for.
But sometimes… oh sometimes the status quo simply becomes unbearable. Because the reflection in the mirror has become a person you don’t know. Or someone you know, but not someone you’d want to know.
Ah, there’s good memories. And there’s bad memories. There’s a bucketload of experience in that face, which you have come to admire in your own way. You know who you are, or at least you think you do. But it’s not enough. You don’t live life by yourself, with your own experience. And experience isn’t happiness. Experience is how you measure happiness. It’s how I know that right now, in this moment, I am happy.
For future reference: order the white poney tea at Kolonel Koffie, folks. Apparently I was only the third person who spotted the erroneous spelling of “peony”, which the shopkeeper had done on purpose because it was funny.
And it is funny, because I always wanted a pony.