this is the worst feeling in the world to me. you don’t know where you fit. or what you belong to. or where you’re going. or what you actually want.

i know some of it is because of the drinking.

there’s a lot changing from day to day too. new people. new feelings. and the sense of home starts to get lost.

i felt that way in bali, after my now ex broke up with me. i was alone. on an island. and sick. on new years. what a royal fucking douche bag. i sat in my hotel room spiraling. yet the difficulty seemed to lie in not knowing where i wanted to be. i didn’t want to be back in portland. and i didn’t necessarily want to be in sydney. i wanted to be somewhere i couldn’t put my finger on.

that feeling was somewhat comforting though too. it meant i was letting go of america. it means that my life is still open for a course change. that i wasn’t and am not locked into anything. sometimes… i love that feeling. today is not that day.

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