wandering.
It was 4am and I couldn’t sleep. It had been a night of fighting with my thoughts. Stuck between staring at the ceiling, the time on my phone, the journal tucked under my pillow. Thinking about everything. Playing it all over and over again in my mind. I was so tired. Not just physically. Mentally, emotionally. I felt like a circus tiger trapped in a cage. I needed to escape. The lamp post on the street below filtered through the blinds and made patterns across the ceiling. Every so often a car would drive by and it would distort - slats would disappear, colours would change, and then back to the same. I was sleeping on a mattress on the floor in a spare room apologetically offered to me by a friend. Boxes filled up the rest of the room - memories from old apartments that there just wasn’t the space for in this new life of theirs. Next to my bed was a holdall packed with the things I’d deemed essential: passport, money, toothbrush, phone charger. No room for anything sentimental.