Posted on February 23, 2018
It’s been about two weeks since I got back to the city, and I must say, it has been quite the experience. It feels like I’ve been away forever, and at the same time, it’s as if I was only gone for a day or two. Nothing has changed, and everything has changed. It’s unsettling, but exciting, but terrifying, but great, but also help me, what am I doing? I’ve been re-adopted by my Australian family, who came and picked me up at the airport and took me into their home again as if I hadn’t just been away for three whole months. I honestly don’t know what I did to deserve them, but every day I thank the universe that I’ve been so #blessed to have met such wonderful people. My life in Sydney would have been totally different if it weren’t for them (in a bad, very poor way), so every time I count my blessings, I make sure to count them twice.
Apart from sitting here, wandering through the city, or meeting up with my friends, I haven’t been up to much good lately – I just realised I wrote this down as if sitting here is a valid thing to do in a day; I mean, it better, about 30-70% of my time consists of bumming around. I’m just hanging around, trying to catch my breath before the big travels begin, making plans for the next four months. It’s unsettling, but exciting, but terrifying, but great, but also help me, what am I doing? I’m going to have to make new friends – yet again – and sometimes I can’t help but feel like one of those pot plants I kept accidentally killing; uprooted, moved around, only to be left in the incapable hands of someone who doesn’t know how to properly take care of them (still me, in this case). I’ll be alright, though, I just like a good dramatic metaphor. Also, at least I know how much water I need/can take before I start to turn yellow and die.
The strangest thing, however, have been my low-key freak-outs about going outside in the dark. The first few times I was sure I was about to step on a snake, as if I was suffering from some strange Post Traumatic Snake Disorder. I had to keep myself from pre-flushing the toilet every time I wanted to use it, because here the chances of spiders/snakes seeking refuge in the bowl, casually waiting to bite me in the ass, are pretty much non-existent. If I were a smart girl, I’d go back to worrying about real things like getting hit by a bus, or have all my shit stolen, but you know, as previously established, I’m not that smart, so snakes it is. I’m getting over it, though. Having been domesticated for a few months – like a stray dog, or maybe one of those fat, cute-looking raccoons you’d want to try and keep – I had almost forgotten what a perfect fit the city and I are.
Unfortunately, with my return to big city life also came the burning desire to upgrade my wardrobe to those Carrie Bradshaw standards. Having to celebrate my birthday in Queensland, I thought I deserved to treat myself to a nice new pair of red boots. Online shopping is a bitch, isn’t it. Heels higher than the sky, it’s not the sensible footwear a backpacker needs, but I’ll figure something out. In the meantime, please just make sure I don’t buy more shoes that are for rich bitches that can afford to uber everywhere. I’m a broke ass bus bitch, I actually have to walk in these things.