Europe, the beating drum within my chest, shuttered like wild thing within this cage of flesh. It thrums it's beat against my own heart beat, building within expectation.
One week. One more week. Am I running away? Or running towards opportunity? I still haven't worked it out. Regardless, with trembling timid steps, I'll board that plane, the one that will fly me to Europe, that mysterious continent that calls to me like a Siren, willing me home.
Will Europe be my place? The one that quells this wanderlust of mine?
I'm feeling so poetic today, on edge with excitement and fear the words are flowing from me with little thought or regard. I'm going, really going.
I'm leaving all my problems behind, the depressing job, the cold winter, my broken heart. It stays in New Zealand as I fly away to become a new person. Is this cowardice or bravery?
I could be whoever I want to be, collect my best qualities in a jar and display them proudly at the forefront, saying 'yes, this is me!' A new name, a new attitude, a new person. Intoxicating ideas.
She will always be a part of me, that sad solemn timid girl who's heart is lying smashed at her feet. She still is me in many (too many) ways. But I don't only want to be her anymore.
I want to be someone more. I want to be something more.
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