I come home after a month of traveling and I feel a little bit angry with myself. More than a vacation but less than a sabbatical, I found myself torn between the two extremes and making choices that didn’t exactly suit either one. I write half of a blog post describing the differences in flowery language but can’t find a clear enough point to make it worth posting.
That’s not to say my trip was bad by any means, just that “short-term” travel requires a different type of preparation, one that I feel much better about when I already start thinking about next summer.
I fall in love with The Bartender at precisely the same moment that he falls out of love with me and I can’t help feeling that this will continue to be a sick, twisted trend in my life. Most people seem to add up to more than the sum of their parts, but I am finding it harder and harder to believe about myself each time I manage to push another person out of my life after a very short period of bliss. This scares me considerably more than being single again.