This weekend my world has changed, dramatically. I’m not ready to speak about it properly, it just means things are about to change for me in pretty much every part of my life.
The way it happened was a bit rubbish really, I’m hurting that’s for sure. The thing is that while I’ve been hurting I’ve been planning, I say planning, I mean realising what comes next.
At the moment I’m going to have to remain flexible and take each day as it comes. I’m planning on a loose level, however the time span of approaching events is yet another aspect of my life I have no control over. More waiting. It’s cool, I actually feel conflicted on this front. I’m hurting, but the feeling I have otherwise I swear is that stretched out moment of the feeling of freedom. I’m looking forward to the rest of my life, and the opportunity to expand on any previous plans has now, sort of, become limitless. Ugh, I just sound elusive, however it really is how few specific details I am able to consider right now. It’s good, I’m able to let my imagination plan what it likes, not in an unreasonable manner but fuck it, right? There’s nothing wrong with being unrealistic occasionally. Well, what I’m talking about specifically is upping and fucking off to Portugal.. yeah, that old nugget. I don’t know what draws me there, it was first suggested to me when I was twenty one and living up North. I was sick of moving around a single country and my friend had looked into starting a business there. Obviously, there’s a lot to consider to make it a possibility and I’m miles off even planning it properly, but there’s nothing wrong with having a goal, right?
The thing is, everything is pointing me toward keeping the city lifestyle, so I wonder if I’d be best turning my sights to somewhere like Barcelona. This is considering the street poetry, which will come with me, obviously.
I dunno, it just feels like my goals are just moving further away as I approach a reality built around these goals. Then it occurs to me this is just another cycle of life, we set a goal, reach it, set another goal. Thing is through all of my ideas about what will or won’t happen, only three have remained so important to me that I consider them as often as possible.
The first is being well, I mean I will never be “well” as such, but learn how to live with the one or two OCD symptoms I have not yet mastered or utilitied to my advantage (PTSD should be sorted with EMDR plus recovery time).
The second is to simply remain true to myself, my instincts & retain some self respect through out my on and off self punishment.
The third is to get the fuck off this rock, somewhere hot with beaches. Hence Barcelona, a city by the Sea, and Portugal, which has a gorgeous run of beaches all along one side.
Some people have told me that’s asking a lot, I think who is that asking a lot of, myself? I think not. I am the one person I can ask for what ever I might want, because I am the one that can or cannot make it so.
These are relatively long term plans, admittedly. I need to allow myself to just hover in the future for a while, as the past is pointless and the present isn’t that great.
At the moment I’m just going with my own flow, mainly creating a fair amount. Although I cut off creativity way before bed last night and had an accidental film marathon, it was lovely just relaxing.
I’m just trying to give myself space, although I do feel the freedom it hasn’t kicked in physically yet so I’m giving it to myself where I can.
I am excited for the future, and a little bored of distracting myself while I wait for the close of the curtain on this scene. The extra positive part is that everything I occupy myself with has a goal in common, I have realised quote recently. The goal itself has not yet materialised, it’s just come to my attention that so many of my actions are contributing toward furthering the stretch of the poetry project. Yes, definitely exciting!
So, to the future then…