[ Day 1 : 13 hour flight with Maroon 5 on replay -> metro to the hotel -> Breakfast at a cafe -> Notre Dame -> Louvre museum -> Galeries Lafayette ]
Back to life. I am so unhappy to be home. Paris was a paradise, it truly was. Everything from the culture to the chilly weather to the coffees&croissants to the sightseeing and getting lost and the shopping. Even the flights weren't too bad, granted I had Maroon 5 on replay as I slept. I can't say I needed the break because there isn't much I need to be broken away from but it felt good to relieve myself of the cage in my head. Though I seem to have crawled right back in the moment the return flight took off. Fuck you, Maroon 5. The deep-rooted dread I felt to return made me wonder if I really am miserable, without it at least. Our quick, meaningless conversation was probably what saved me from the epic lull after the high. Perhaps the biggest lesson is that I need to learn to loosen up, not think too much and just react. Because now at least it's better than nothing. Also, I need to stop seeing this as a competition because I am more than content to lose if it meant there was a shot. Not that there is, it's just some blind hope. Even then, I think I've mostly come to accept it's nothingness anyway. Other than that, I didn't realize just how little I do these days. I need some fucking prospects or at least, something to come home to.
And every night we'll watch the stars,
they'll be out for us
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