“It’s said that you can never go home again, and it’s true enough, of course. But the opposite is also true. You must go back, and you always go back, and you can never go back, no matter how hard you try.”
I wrote a post titled “Things I’ll never say” and then, fittingly, chose not to post it.
I am missing more people than I should—people I never expected to miss when I was so busy worrying about leaving people behind.
But I think maybe that’s the point. To be uncomfortable. To realize who and what is important. And then to be bold, go out, and get it.
Next week I go to Thailand, where I am choosing to be bold and uncomfortable and go to Koh Pha Ngan alone for a Full Moon Party—which I hope will not be as awkward and lonely as solo Amsterdam—and then I am working on what’s important by traveling 200 km north of Bangkok to Utthaithani to live in a rural village and teach English at a local school.
And after that? There are so many things I want to do, but I am stifled by things like timelines and weather and money.
Or south: finally make it to Vietnam and Laos, lose myself in India, head back to Morocco to work at my favorite hostel.
I can’t change my trip for these people I miss—even if I do decide that they’re important, they’ll have to wait. I’m not ready to call anywhere “home.”