November 1st 2015
Today I returned home from my ten week European interrail trip.
It’s finished. Done. I’m home.
I woke up this morning in Paris, and now I’m sleeping in my own bed for the first time in almost three months. I woke up this morning depressed as hell. I didn’t want to come home, and I don’t want to be home now I’m here.
I’ve forgotten how to live a normal life.
To me, right now, life is where you travel to a new city every four days and then spend three days walking around the city and going out for meals every day and going snorkelling and doing tours and stuff. What do people do in normal life? I’ve forgotten. Work and shit, I suppose.
I’m not happy with my return to normality. I know I’ll be restless. I’ll want to move locations every four days. I’ll be confused by spending a week in the same bed.
The weather is confusing. Everyone suddenly speaks English. I can hear other people’s conversations.
The cars are different. I now think of the English as being the ones that drive on the wrong side of the road.
I can’t remember what I did with my life before travelling. Worked, I guess. But give me a week before I think about that.
Today is also November the 1st. The start of NaNoWriMo (National Novel Writing Month). I might write a novel this month. I’m going to have to keep myself busy, so why not.
I can write it about my experiences over the last ten weeks. Write about what you know, and that.
This is weird. I don’t have to go to sleep tonight thinking about what I am going to do tomorrow.
I wonder what I am going to do tomorrow.
Until tomorrow, welcome home.