It was the beginning. Ish. But it wasn’t. It was a turmoil of a shit ton of emotions that would never be a mistake, but would always feel like half of one. Then there was a kiss…a kiss that didn’t even come until much later. After we both knew better. After I definitely did, but needed it. After Norway. After knowing I loved him so much, that I needed to leave. Again. After knowing as I was boarding a plane that this was the epitome of running away from your problems. After landing in a foreign country and being so miserable that I was determined to make it work, no matter the consequences. That was before the kiss. Imagine what came after.
To be honest, it was quite mundane. There was no fairy tale meeting; there was no grand gesture of chivalry. I was on a Tinder date, and one of my best friends asked him to join. For her. Because I made my friend come -obviously, first dates. I don’t need that weirdness by myself. Even after just arriving back in the States from a year hiatus, she had my back. And it wasn’t the beginning of the spiral I called my life. Hardly. One of the reasons for the (ish) in this title.
I was coming back from an awkward series of events that ultimately started with my then boyfriend being deported to his native New Zealand. Actually, I take that back. It all started (ish) when I was a flight attendant and fell in love with NYC and moved back to the beautiful city that never sleeps after a few mishaps I shall call “life lessons”. After a couple years in the beautiful garden known as Brooklyn, NY, I had to trot my ass out to New Zealand after falling in love with a fucking accent apparently. (Life advice: Falling in love with a city is much better than falling in love with a person when you’re young-possibly when you’re old too. Get back with you on that.) Ten months down the road found me in South East Asia with money from an engagement ring in my pocket, a bright green backpack on my shoulders that is still loyal to me, and scars that will last forever. Literally, bug bites that took chunks out of my Goddamn leg. But that is a story for another time.
Back to ish.
I fell. Hard. But I didn’t admit it. I avoided him. I tried with other boys. I look back at that time and wonder “What if?”, but it doesn’t matter. Not really. I am where I am now because of it, and hopefully me in the parallel universe that said yes to that bike ride at the festival near the lake is happily with ish and living the life I think about so often. However, here I am in Europe for the second time, and I am going to live the shit out of this. I am happy. I am lonely. I am wistful even sometimes. These are all wonderful things to be, especially at the same time.
Indeed, I am struggling at money when I am 30. I am wondering what the actual fuck I am doing sometimes. I wonder with every thing that captures my interest and leads me down another road if this is “it”, or if I am just following another butterfly that turns into a fucking moth. And then I realize… that doesn’t mean shit. Butterflies and moths are basically the same- apparently the difference is in their antennae (mostly)- but the perception people have between a butterfly and a moth is drastic. The distinction I made between them growing up was “ooh look it’s a beautiful butterfly” to “what the actual hell is flying around my head is this a frigging bat?” and I feel that rings true to a lot of people. Maybe it’s just me. The point is, so what if it’s a moth that you’re following in someone else’s perspective? It’s basically a Goddamn butterfly, and if it’s beautiful in your eyes, who cares?
I do digress. What comes from this is that I travel. I leave people that matter to me; that still do matter to me (so much it cracks my heart sometimes). I leave problems I cannot fix in my life, and I create more wherever I go..This is a fact of life. I cry, I hurt, I leave pieces of my heart with people that will never know that they have something so precious to me. I also love. I live. I leave. I go looking for a butterfly; moth; bat; happiness. Whatever it is that pushes you to travel- do it. I am not running from anything. Do not let anyone tell you that when you drop everything to leave a place, it’s because you are running. I’m going out to catch my fucking moth (ish). Catch yours too.