I'm going to Europe next year. It's always been a That'd-be-nice, Someday-I'll-go, It-costs-HOW-much, kind of thing. But now it's time.
Part of me wants to go about it recklessly because I've never been prone to intentional recklessness and this is the perfect chance to be just that. But really I just want to live. Instead of writing about stuff and thinking about stuff and creating an alternate-reality where I'm that person that does that stuff, it's time to really do it in the reality that I'm wholly a part of. Or trying to be wholly part of.
I'm out of practice with this whole writing thing. I don't know where I've been, but it's foggy and uncomfortable and I'm just so tired. I'm tired of being tired. It's time for something else.