finding myself

i don’t know who i am

i am meant to be finding myself. i’m young, i’m independent, i’m backpacking the world. all i’ve dug up is so much confusion.

i’ve been finding myself in situations with men that will never make it clear if they like me, want me, find me attractive. i’ve been finding myself in situations with men who like me when i keep my mouth shut. i’ve been finding myself in situations.

it’s been 7 weeks of hostels and cold showers. 7 weeks of beach days and day drinking. 7 weeks of new people and 7 weeks of constant analysis. how much can one person live in their own head while being in the center of everything they’ve ever dreamed of?

it’s true when they say you can never out run yourself. i don’t want to escape completely. i don’t take my ‘i want to be bourdain’ playlist literally. i’m happy with who i am, but i am not happy with the cycles i’m finding myself in.

how can ambiguity and overanalyses chase me through continents? how can i never be sure of anything?

i think i’ve forgotten how to write. i’ve forgotten how to spell out my thoughts. when i lived in switzerland, all i did was write. there was nothing else to do. now, i have everything here for me. i have the world in front of me, and i’ve lost my touch. i’ve lost what made me feel special 2 months ago. now, i am both brave and one of the masses. i’m transitory, temporary, lost and completely grounded.

i don’t know what it’s meant to feel when i finally ‘find myself.’ i know who i am right now, but i can’t even figure out what now is. my entire trip? life? age? location? i leave this city in a few days, will i become a new person when i cross the border?

how many times will i have to find myself before i become stagnant? i can’t tell if i ever want that. while i’m here, in a constant bubble of other temporary people, i can chase distraction. i can chase men who will never show me proof, and i can chase the feeling of chasing something greater than myself.

i love this life. i can’t imagine myself in any other situation, but how could i? i can only figure myself out every minute, i couldn’t place myself in a new position.

i have a year left in my delirious state. maybe i’ll wake up one morning with everything figured out. right now, i just want to remember how to write.