I've been wanting to write about my travels for a while. But I've never found the motivation to. In fact I've been trying to write this piece for a few months now, but have not been pleased with it (inner perfectonist oops). The times when I did actually try to set up a new travel blog using wordpress, I got pissed off at its user interface (cos I hadn't paid at that point, it refused to let me use the theme I wanted! annoying!). Anyway I finally figured out how to make the pages with multiple posts on Blogger (took me long enough lol), so I'll be recounting most of my travels during my 3 years adventure as a university student in London. I'll definitely cover London at some point, but for now I'm going to focusing on my trips (at least 1 night) outside London. I'll do it the most boring way possible - chronologically. Call me out for that, but it's convenient for me to relive my experiences through my gallery too. Anyway, here we go: first stop, the...
Some days I feel like I've not been a great person. I forget to check in with friends, raise my voice when speaking with the parents, and just can't empathise with the stories of tragedy that people document on social media. Doing nice things for others feel harder. Or that I've just begun to do it less and less. It's like I don't have any emotional bandwith to deal with all these things anymore. Is this just a natural part of being an adult? It really isn't fun. Don't worry, I'm not depressed. Just feeling more frustration at loads of things. Work, obviously. Do people really have nothing else to do in their lives but work? Sending an email at 2.30am? Why would you do that to yourself? As I type this I feel a surge of anger rising from my belly. Or is it just confusion? I don't know. What a strange place we're all living in. The world itself is spinning out of control. Wars breaking out, news about the latest new 'law' Trump has mad...