Tuesday, February 4, 2014



The truth is that I freak out on a daily cycle about how and what I am meant to be doing, that I pay too much attention to the word should. The truth is I am ardently insecure and desperately in need of constant reassurance.

The truth is that volunteering doesn't mean you're a good person, or you have constant gratification or that you're automatically doing a 'good thing'. You're simply trying your hand at what you think is helping.

The truth is that good friends are hard to find but that somehow they always find me or I always find them or they are there for me, thousands of cities and bus rides and imaginary flights away. The truth is I get through life with them here.

The truth is I am less on fire than I was in Spain. The truth is I keep chasing the feeling I had when the world impressed me and I keep trying to recreate the quickening pace of my heart beat even though all I feel is the unchanged thud of the everyday.

The truth is that I am in love with the fact that my life is so full of human connection and that I could live without seeing Machu Picchu or La Ciudad Perdida or Iguazu Falls but I would die a thousand deaths to spend a weekend with irreplaceable and unforgettable friends drinking our feelings and eating our thoughts and airing out the warring factions of our minds.

The truth is I miss my family terribly, I miss Australia terribly, I miss the ocean and the beach and the sand and the siren song of the tide to no end. The truth is that I need to be by a giant body of water to feel calm and relaxed and humbled. The truth is that I need to see that the sea has no end to the horizon to understand that my imagination falls short of the wonders and magic of the world.

The truth is I go to giant swings at night to quieten the voices of confusion in my head, to disappear the too earnest waiting room of decisions, to upturn the closed lid bin of discarded feelings. I swing and I swing and I swing until it feels okay again.

The truth is that my life is great, and all of these things make it so. The truth is that great is not a good enough word but the only one I can muster. That one of my good friends here says true so much it makes me question what that is and why it's important and somehow this is the result of that.  

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