I miss this guy. I still remember the night we were all out dancing in the White Room, he told me I was like a daughter to him. It probably occurred to me at some point that I’d never see him again after leaving Thailand. For one month, we were classmates, we were friends. It was a motorcycle accident. Love you John. The world is worse off without you. Thank you for lending me pens. Thanks for the laughs, the advice, thanks for being my Dad away from home.
All the cigarette boxes in Thailand have these nasty pictures of rotting teeth and body parts. He once told me “Well I can’t stop smoking now can I? I have to collect them all.”
This is the first time in a very long time that I am able to say I am living in the here and now. I’ve been so hung up on my past, on the people who think poorly of me, the mistakes I’ve made… I spent a good chunk of my life constantly reassuring myself that “eventually” I will be happy, satisfied, and start traveling.
Even in Korea, there was an undercurrent in my head “Thailand Thailand Thailand it will be better in Thailand”.
I’m here. I mean, mentally. I’m exactly where I should be. The past seems so far away, detritus washing up on a whole other continent.
I have class every weekday, and then I go out with my classmates at night. All together we are from 8 different countries (possibly nine, now I’m losing track). It’s only the third day of class and I’m already starting to feel really comfortable with these people.
I’ll probably never live on the beach for a month again. So it begins.