I NEED a holiday.
Not want, need. I need to get away from all the things that remind me of everything I’ve lost this year (much more than just a relationship, but we’ll not get into that). I need to get away from my parents (I’m sorry – I love you both dearly but living at home again is trying, to say the least!). And I need to get away from people who know me. Deleting my Facebook account only made people more interested in my business, asking what’s wrong, where I’ve been, is everything ok… They mean well, of course. They just can’t take a fucking hint.
However, any travel companions I would have considered all have holidays booked already and no extra cash or time off work to book another trip with lonely old me. Thing is, I actually used to love travelling on my own! Quietly people watching in the airport, wondering who’s watching me back, drinking a cup of coffee, reading vogue, trying to give off to others the air of being an international jet setter. Oh, you’re travelling with a friend? Excited for your trip? How cute… I’m just flying to Paris for business, no big deal *glamorous hair flick* (these are just my inner dialogues btw, I’m not really that much of a dick). Before the break up I was already contemplating taking a solo city break while he was off partying with his friends in Ibiza. But of course now that going solo is imposed upon me, it isn’t so appealing anymore. It was different when you knew there would be two arms waiting to wrap themselves around you when you came home. That somebody would be missing you, excited to hear about your trip.
I’m in two minds about it (as I am about almost everything due to my paradoxical nature). Will holidaying alone break me once more? Will it be an overwhelming realisation of how alone I am and how much I miss my lover, my best friend? Will I be too anxious to even enjoy myself? Or is it just what I need to give me back a sense of autonomy? To prove to myself that I can do this alone, I will thrive without him, even just to prove to him what a bad ass, boss bitch he lost (this is how I imagine myself, strutting around cosmopolitan cities toute seule)?
My brain says it’s the smart thing to do, but that little depressed devil on my shoulder says I shouldn’t risk it. Honestly, I have a similar debate over so many things everyday and that little voice gets it’s way far too often. I have a huge list of things I know I should be doing to be happier, healthier, more successful, but I always put it off until tomorrow and, as it goes, tomorrow is yet to come. I’ve been told I give great advice but I certainly can’t take it. I could be a professional hypocrite (that has to be a job, right? I mean the Kardashians get paid for doing less).
It seems my heart and mind are constantly at war with each other. However, while my poor heart is on the mend I suppose it’s time I put this brain to use (it used to be quite good, from what I remember).
So does anybody know how to get cheap flights to Vegas?
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Angry Blonde 