I’ve had to think a few times about putting this up, as I don’t think I’ve ever written anything quite so depressing! But sometimes life knocks the stuffing out of you, and it’s a confusing place to be left behind… As lots of you know I’ve been through a few ups and downs recently and I suppose this would be the outcome of a tired insomniac mind at it’s bleakest. That said as ever, all of you near and far who have taken the time to prove my thoughts here wrong, thanks and I most certainly love you! Awful cheeseball intro over lol. Xx

It’s been nearly two years now since I set off on what was supposed to be a 6 month trot around south east Asia. And other then two 10 day pit stops back home for weddings (friends and relatives dropping like flies these days!) there’s been nothing to make me want the conventional life so many people I know lead. But the time has come, the money finally run out……. and as I sit here on the sofa with one arm covered in the remnants of henna, the last of my bug bites itching with a furious final wind, and a several week old chunk of contact lens stuck in my eye I’m musing some of three things.

Number 1 some of the stuff I’ve seen and experienced.I’ve seen violence against strangers and friends alike on the island I was living on, I’ve killed, gutted and cooked a fish, ive talked myself out of a panic attack in the middle of the ocean, and been talked out of a few by others, seen dead people burning in the streets, watched goats be beheaded in droves, spent a week in a city of lawlessness run by the worst of humanity, fallen over into someone else’s poop whilst vomiting into a squatter on a night train, cried, rescued a chicken, and been attacked by a Holy Man to name a few.

Number 2 how can something as simple as a 9 to 5 seem scarier then these things! Having lived a life without limits for so long, the beckoning fingers of structure are making me feel like curling into a small ball and hiding behind the sofa.

But most importantly number 3 everything I’ve done for the last two years as unruly as they may have appeared to the outside, have been for some kind of good purpose. I have always absolutely and unshakeably believed in following ones heart – sometimes at an awfully high price. And nothing that I’d seen or been through up till now had managed to wobble that. It seems bizarre that after all the drama, police reports, restraining orders, things you wouldn’t believe if you saw them in a soap opera – none of them managed to change me, but the last 6 months or so have. It is ironic that I feel more lost now at a time where practically my life is more comparably at peace then it ever was before I went away.

What happens when you do all the travelling in the world, and other then the knowledge that you WILL get sick if you go to Delhi, it feels like the only thing you’ve brought back with you is the dismal realisation that actually yes: the world we live in mostly is a loveless place, yes most of the beliefs that held you together for 27 years is are foolish idealisms, yes the majority of people care first about how much money they have and then themselves miles before anything or anyone else, racism and hatefulness continue to thrive, the planet continues to die, disney isn’t real, but most of all – most of all – the mind boggling coldness and ruthlessness that people can possess.

I suppose that what it boils down to, is that these days it’s a rare and beautiful type of love that can conquer the ever powerful desire for money, that doesn’t follow the rules, that means more to someone then themselves. It’s something I’ve known. I’ve seen it shine, not in big bunches of flowers or grand gestures, but in selflessness, in that connection between two people, in all of it’s soft but ferocious strength. Between friends, between family or between lovers, true love DOES, it doesn’t sit around and pat you on the back when its got the time. For me that has always been the most important and priceless thing this life can offer. And I’ve always tried to live by that ideal and aspire to it, but now I feel like I have to finally admit defeat and my metaphorical self is sadly slipping off her rosé tinted glasses and letting them slide to the floor. Now I see nothing. I see a world full of people consumed by self and greed and ignorance, love is strangled by the chains of practicalities, rubbish is thrown on the floor, because why be bothered to put it in a bin. And I suppose I should be grateful I’ve finally learnt this now, sooner rather then later.

It’s a scary and sad place to be stuck alone in your mind. Fortunately I really really do have an army of the best friends a girl could wish for, friends who have tirelessly provided me with hours/days of their time giving me just the right amount of love/cigarettes/wine/stern talks/Harry Potter to bring me out of miserably yelling ‘WHY!’ face down into a pillow on the sofa, and friends whose very existence are the best remedy for a loss of faith in life. But even they have to sleep sometime and it’s those early mornings completely alone with nothing but your hard way learned knowledge and regrets that do the damage.

So what to do when the backpacks hung up, all the beautiful things and people you’ve seen and experienced become dusty photos in some old album on facebook, there’s no flights to catch, no next destination, and no guidebook to tell you where to go. Small and trembling you stand at the cross roads in your mind with 3 million possible directions. Normally it would have been very simple for me, you follow your heart, you do what you think is right and throw caution to the winds. But what if that excitement has been stripped from you, what if that sparkle in your eye has finally gone out, I’ve never lived without it, I’ve always felt something but the lessons I’ve leant have shown me that really sometimes, there’s just no point. And that is far more lost then anywhere in the middle of Nepal without a map.