It’s funny. I posted a few weeks ago about eating out alone, and back in September, I found myself travelling by myself, exploring, and eating out. It felt totally natural. I’ve done it before of course, but this time, I forgot to even think about it. I didn’t think, oh goodness, I’m by myself, and in fact it didn’t really strike me, not really, until I went into a city and craving pizza, headed to an Italian restaurant.
I always though that life at twenty five would be pretty sorted. That everything would have fallen into place and life would be sweet. Of course, as I’ve got older, I’ve realised that life isn’t like that, at any point, and yet still, there’s this feeling that something hasn’t fallen into place somewhere, that something went wrong, that I went wrong -somewhere, somehow.