After a really crapola night of fighting, lots of drinking, and petty bullshit, I woke up the next day feeling pretty much like a fat cow that had been shit on by a rhino stranded in the middle of nowhere, all by myself. I lay in bed till well into the afternoon contemplating where the hell I should go from here, what do I do and how do I make everything better. The best, and only solution, is to leave, so I am.
September ... IM GOING TO EUROPE!
Italy, France, Greece, Portugal, Spain, Austria, London, Amsterdam
3 months of travel, to write, see, eat, buy, drink, party and finally do something that I want to do. Something that is for me only, I'm not thinking about other people and how they feel because fuck knows I have done that for too long.
I cant wait to wake up in Rome and walk through the gypsy markets. Have a coffee, read Italian Vogue while having a cigarette in the sun. I cant wait to go back to the vatican city, to catch the train and see Milan, shop in my sky high heels because unlike Melbourne its socially unacceptable NOT to wear heels. Visit the beach in Naples and eat fresh seafood plater and antipasto in Sicily. Then I will take the Eurostar to Paris and sit in front of the the Eiffel tower for hours and read. Walk through the streets of Paris, find vintage boutiques and the most amazing gems. Then I will go into Chanel and feel completely content to just die right then and there. I'll eat snails, and find a beautiful french boyfriend that I can have every time I go back.
I will lie on a beach in Santorini, smoke a joint in Amsterdam, cry in Austria, kick the queen in London, have dinner with Ronaldo in Portugal then come home and not speak a word of english.
I'm just a tad excited.
p.s when I'm in London I'' change my blog name to Ionlyliveinlondonforthetimebeing :)