After lying in bed for what felt like forever, my mind crowded with open tabs I couldn’t close, I finally got up. I cancelled the trip in my head a thousand times before I even left. I looked up ways to escape Faro, searched for places to run to — though I don’t even know what I was trying to outrun. And yet, somehow, I still boarded the train to the airport this morning.
Travel has never felt this heavy. There is no excitement tucked away in any quiet corner of my heart. I am scared. Truly scared. I’m running from something, but carrying it with me all the same. You can’t hide from yourself — and I’m learning that the place was never the problem to begin with.
I felt so achingly needy that I asked someone to be present on my birthday. Saying that out loud still stings. It doesn’t feel like something I would do. But this year, I really didn’t want to be alone. I didn’t want to feel that familiar abandonment — that quiet confirmation that I don’t matter enough to be chosen, to be celebrated, to be made to feel special. I asked anyway. And as expected, the answer was no. Somehow, that hurts more than I imagined it would.
The only thing softening the blow — even slightly — is the sun and the landscape slipping past the train window (see pictures 😬) Their presence feels steady, almost merciful. I wish human connection could be like this: constant, unconditional, consistent, and quietly warming. Something you don’t have to earn or ask for.
So here I am, carrying all this heaviness onto another flight, into another city, holding on to the simple promise of sunlight. I look forward to it more than anything else right now. Always and forever indebted to its existence. Sometimes, when people fall short, you cling to what isn’t human just to feel a little less broken.
I’ll write more on this as I land this evening, and try to soothe my heart in the best possible ways I can.
