The scare is scared of the things you like
Being on vaccation. Being able to fully disconnect. Don't give a fuck about tasks on my to-do app.
Allowing yourself to not have plans. To go to bed without knowing precisely what you are going to do the next day. To even allow yourself to not check the email, to not read the news.
To lay down and watch the stars. When was the last time you took the time to just stare at the black sky and wonder how many worlds are in this world? And being a tourist even in your own city. Realizing there are so many things you know nothing about.
All that. But the ghosts of your regular life floating around. A message from a friend telling you how screwed up things are at work. A memo from the administration letting you know that they are planning to lay off people in November. A job posting from a newsroom across the ocean asking for someone with your exact skills and getting paid weekly what you get paid in a month. Asking yourself if you shouldn't leave. Leave everything behind in a country that pays almost the minimum wage to a journalist.
Taking a deep breath.
The scare is scared of the things you like.
So I think of pizza. And zamburiñas. And the sound of rain in the winter. And the feeling of the air conditioner being turned on. And a ball hitting the racket strings.
Welcome to my vacation diary.