One suspects that any move, whether it be town or country, requires a period of adjustment. Currently, I am in that period. My love for Berlin grows with each day, however, my love for myself on the other hand, feels as though it diminishes. There is something about the Berlin culture, the avid radiation of cool, that forces more self-effacing souls, such as myself, to feel inherently undermined.
This bubble of insecurity is not aided by my lack of social interaction. Being without paid employment, when the rest of the world is hard at work, results in more solemn moments than I care for. I crave structure, routine, a fixed grid to divide my time with. I worry that I'm not spending my free time constructively, not doing enough, seeing enough. Am I being brave enough?
Most certainly, above anything, I feel lonely & in my loneliness, dark shadows form, encouraging the madness, feeding the doubts. It's like seeing a better version of yourself, knowing what you can be, but struggling with where to start. There are only so many trips to the shops in Mitte before you realise, the issue isn't your clothing.
I thought anchoring myself somewhere, finally making a home, would be easier, however, in reality, it seems I've just taken one small step on a rather long path.
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