When I turned 35 my family forgot about it and I accidentally ran over my neighbour’s cat on the way home. I drank more that night alone than on my 21st birthday when my Australian friend fed me shots and I ended up vomiting in my gift bag.
That’s how it feels when I’ve been traveling… and then I’m back home. While I’m traveling I feel like I’m someone on a mission, I’m going places, doing things, I’m on an adventure, it’s a constant race of trying to get from one place to another, there’s always somewhere I have to be. Just a constant rush, rush, rush.
And then I’m home… trying to decide if I feel like taking a shower today or if I can push it one more day. It’s like, “Damn, I’m just like all the other stay-at-home peons now. I used to be somebody.”
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