Was I meant to be?

Note: This was written on 15th Feb even though released later

You know life changing moments happen a few times in your life or maybe a few million times in your life. Every moment can be life-changing but, hold onto this and admit: not every moment is. Not every epiphany is epiphanatic.

Long long ago, when I was 13 I learnt about what Valentine’s Day. My friends bought me these cards that spoke of love and friendship. I didn’t understand them, but I did really really desire it. Now, that’s a weird thing right? How can you desire something you don’t understand or know? That is what romantic relationships or pursuit of it really is.

Is that what all life is?

A desire for an unknown future, a quest for a person you’re not yet but hope to be without knowing who that is. As it would be possible for anyone who read this to see, I am in a bit of a drift. For the first time, I am completely unsure. Some things in my life have started to take a picture but I am afraid to act on them. I am afraid to take some chances that I know I must take.

No, it is not about love. Of course, it isn’t.

Love has as I googled to find: eluded me.

Last May, I took 3 days off and told no one and went to Japan. I went to a very small island called Ishigaki and turned off my phone. I hit reset. When I came back, I knew I was leaving Hong Kong. I would leave in August and go figure life out. I needed to see the world and I needed to know there was more out there. More than getting up in the morning and going to the gym. More than someone hating me at work which made me want to quit. More than trying to figure out why someone wouldn’t love me. More than that.

So, I made my peace. I said I would leave. I would leave my friends behind. My whole life packed up, I would leave it. I would have nothing. I would keep nothing. It was right, the right thing and I knew it.

Fast forward six months, I don’t know what is right anymore. I don’t think being in Portland is. It isn’t right. This is wrong. Don’t get me wrong: I like my life here but it feels claustrophobic more than Montepulciano did. More than Almeria did. It’s so unoriginal.

March 4th addition: “A hundred bad days made a hundred good stories, a hundred good stories made me interesting at parties”