After three weeks in Bretagne, I leave for Paris tomorrow. My séjour here has been lovely, but today it ended in a rain storm, whose suite has been a pastel yellow sky, small trains of clouds splicing the ocean colored globe above.
I have a lot on my mind.
This One and I have been texting and I cannot wait to get back to see him, though he's made it more than clear I'm under examination as to determine whether or not I am a ¨little girl¨. I know I'm literally and figuratively not one, but this has wracked my nerves a bit. A remise en question if you will. I, in return, have made it clear he's under examination to determine whether or not he is a ¨capricious man¨ as I don't deal with those either. I'm sticking to my guns about this being a two way street; it is just only I that have to meet standards, it's him too, and I'd prefer we don't waste one another's time.
Then there's the stress about financing and finishing this master and staying in France.
Sometimes I ask myself what the hell I am doing with my life. Sometimes I think that returning ¨home¨ to the US is the answer to all my worries. Sometimes in the midst of all the suffering that fighting to stay here requires, I ask myself why I choose to fight the uphill battles, pick the hardest things I can find to do, want to pack the suitcases and hit the plane and run. But it is not that simple, and at this point, it is not just about the country, it is about this génération flottante and the tossing, churning current into which we are thrown.
Je trouvais pas mon chemin, trop de brume.
Against the current I go.
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