I'm not sure what it is, or what has brought this on, but I have come to the realization I am not happy.

I am not happy in my current living situation (either at my mother's home or my other), I am not happy in my relationship. My fish don't hold the joy for me they used to. I don't care about EMS anymore, or the infatuations that came with it. I have no joy. My job is tedious... I want to up and go. God willing, in Hungary, I'll find something or someone strong enough to keep me from returning to the tedious day to day routine that has become my life.

I still stand by my belief that I am made for something more. For someone more. To become something stronger, faster, more worthy.
And then there's the person who need only call my name and I would flee to the ends of the earth to accompany him; but how long would that last?

Maybe I should just give in and enlist before I am too old.

I have no poetry, I have no prose to drop into this little computer screen.
New things begin and trips to new places.
New experiences to be had in my overseas adventures. What is absynthe like? What does Hungarian sound like in an open marketplace? How has the city of Budapest recovered from its communist days?

Will I see Bucarest? Austria? Amsterdam?
I'm afraid I'll go and never want to come back. Find a job as a shopkeeper somewhere, or woking for some American company... and finally have the overseas wedding I want.

For so long I knew I was meant to be a mother and a wife.
I knew I was meant to put down roots and raise a family.

But now I feel I was meant for so much more.
More than one little town.
I was meant to see the world.

Japan in all its beauty, London with its fog.
Edinburgh and its tall Scottish buildings.
Australia to meet my family, India to read the Kama Sutra in its original form.
China to see the pandas in the forest.

I was meant to live in a little house on a cliff in La Madd, overlooking the sea.

I was meant to write about the mermaids that live in the sea, there.
And raise my children to speak 5 different languages.
And camp on the beach of Sardinia.

I found this accompanying a photo confession on veryliberating.com:

"No matter how much you've changed since then, I still love you. And even if I'm not your one and only right now, you're still mine. Please never forget me if you ever leave, and never forget that I'll always take you back.No matter how much you've changed since then, I still love you. And even if I'm not your one and only right now, you're still mine. Please never forget me if you ever leave, and never forget that I'll always take you back."

I will never take you back.

I fucking hate you. I hate your friends. I hate your room. I hate your hair. I hate your laugh. I hate your smile. I hate you.

Go the fuck away and never speak to me again.

It hurts to know the only way I will ever get over this is by hating you.