Sometimes I imagine staying like this forever. Never ending this kind of life. To keep hopping from town to town, country to country, try different jobs, live in different places and never settle. I can see it, it isn't unimaginable anymore. A couple of years ago I would laugh at the idea, some of my friends still might. Not studying? Not getting an apartment halfway close to my hometown? Not getting a job I kind of can bear or marrying someone I kind of like? Not settling down, ever?
They say your twenties are the best years of your life. I hear it all the time. "Enjoy this time, it will never be this good again. You will never be this free". And so far, it truly has been amazing. I have no regrets what so ever on how I have chosen to spend these past years. I have made my on choices, learned from my mistakes and felt completely and utterly free. So why does it have to end? I know I have a few years left, but why should the best years of my life end just because my twenties do? Shouldn't your entire life be about being as happy and as free as possible? Shouldn't your whole life be the absolute best?
Being away for as long as I have creates an uncertainness with the concept of home. I have several homes. Several places around the world where I could imagine a life. Where I thought "what if I just stay? What if I build a life here, instead of going back to Sweden to settle down?" It happens, easier than you can imagine, that a life across the world from where you grew up, seems simpler and makes more sense than the life that everyone excepts you to come back to.
After three months we have to choose. Stay, and fall in deeper in this new life you have created. Or leave, rip off the bandaid before it sticks to hard. Because somewhere around that third month, the feeling of home start growing on us. The place that earlier simply was a house starts to become a home; a place of comfort and security. A kitchen that simply was a kitchen is now the place you've had midnight snacks in, made breakfasts before work in and sipped wine in before going out. The town that earlier was just a town has now become your town, where you know the streets, the shopping and the bouncers outside your favorite bars. Now you always run into people you know at the clubs and you learn which days to go where and which place that has the best 3am fries. The cafe where you once had your first cup coffee has become the place you regularly visit to write, a place where the baristas know you and asks how your day has been. The restaurant where you once went for brunch suddenly became the place for hungover recovery where the waiter don't need to take your order because they already know what you have every week. It is so easy to go from a traveling backpacker-lifestyle to settling and creating a home. An actual life appears so easily, so why do we always leave?
Self-destructive, that is what it is. Over and over again we hurt ourselves by slowly letting people and places in, only to leave them. We build this wall around us and think it is strong enough not to be broken through, but whenever we reach that three month crossroad we realize it slowly has been torn down. And then we leave, build the wall right back up.
Wellington taught me that even when you think you might have to stop, that your adventure is over and it is time to buy that dreaded ticket to Sweden and settle, you can always start over. Start new. Build a new adventure instead of ending the one you're already in. There is nothing nor no no one other than you that can decide when to go home, because a home can be anywhere in the world. A home can be a in a hostel, at a job or in a little house with a great view in the capital of a new country. Home can be people. Home can simply be a feeling, like when you sit at an airport waiting on a plane that is going to take you to another city you haven't been to yet and again you realize that again you stand alone, without even an adress to your name. Again, you technically have no secure ground under your feet an still you feel safe. Happy. Free.