I'm trying to think about all of this as a game.
It's an unpleasant one-which kinda defeats the purpose of a "game" from the start,but one which I must nonetheless play.The rules are: there are bags to be packed,"goodbyes" to be said,trains to be caught,other cities to be visited for almost a week or so at a time.
How I hate it,I really do!Especially with all that tension which is to be expected...Good friends help in the process.So does the thought of coming back.But it all feels so pointless sometimes that I don't know whether to laugh or to cry.
I've had a wonderful week to rest and gather myself around a core once more,but it seems I need years to mentally prepare myself for...whatever this is.Me trying to be better in the future by loathing the present?A chosen path?One of life's many trials?Beats me...
All I know is that I got onto the same blue train and I got to the same room and that I have the same pit in my stomach which tells me it's no good.I'm not good.
You may think I'm dramatic and overreacting,but no.The difference is that I will try to make the best of my week in one way or another.
I'm trying to think about all of this as a game...