About around 6 years ago I was living in Bucharest in a 30 sqm studio, at the 2nd floor of a residence unit built about 70 years ago. I was lucky to find this flat, before moving there, I used to live with my parents in a small town 60km north. The deal was done on the spot. In less than 30 minutes from entering the apartment I received the keys. It felt like victory. I was soo happy to have a place to call home, where I could close the door and do whatever I wanted without being bothered by anyone.
If I remember well I moved in mid November. And, moved out a year later. During that time, I was on a mission. A mission to become a better version of myself, and I remember well that all I wanted was to reinvent myself. Kill the old me and re-emerge someone better, smarter more intelligent more focused.
There's some cyclical quality to life, I find myslef now in a similar situation where I want to start all over again. Looking back at the past ten years of my life, it was just starting all over again multiple times. Nothing else just starting over, again and again. Should I not be tired of it ?
If I remember well I moved in mid November. And, moved out a year later. During that time, I was on a mission. A mission to become a better version of myself, and I remember well that all I wanted was to reinvent myself. Kill the old me and re-emerge someone better, smarter more intelligent more focused.
There's some cyclical quality to life, I find myslef now in a similar situation where I want to start all over again. Looking back at the past ten years of my life, it was just starting all over again multiple times. Nothing else just starting over, again and again. Should I not be tired of it ?