A friend told me that mostly everyone who goes to Prague goes there to escape something — ironic as it’s something I’ve been attempting to do for a couple of years but failed and returned back to where I was.
It’s been about a year and a half since I’ve packed my belongings into a suitcase and backpack and returned back to NYC. It was an obvious difficult decision since I cried myself to sleep almost every single day a week before I boarded the plane.
But after arriving back, trying to fight this feeling of urgency of escaping, I realised that I’ve had it all wrong.
A while back, I had a very long list of projects I wanted to work on and even though I might find a large majority of them too cringy, they were projects I was passionate and willing to take time to research so I can put everything finally together. That obvious hadn’t happened whatsoever.
This horrible habit of hyping myself up momentarily, imagining how it’ll all come out and how people will love it as much as I will brings me an abundance of eagerness but just like with any habit, I learned how difficult it was to keep up with a project that could’ve taken longer than just that moment. So I stopped.
I stopped with a lot of possible plans I wanted to take route towards just because it didn’t get me to the final result right away or I had to sacrifice quick satisfaction.
However, I reflect back on why I came back to the place I swore I’ll never come back to — the quick satisfaction of running away from my responsibilities need to be taken care of rather than dug very deep inside me.
Maybe this is some sort of curse great writers are supposed to conquer or I’ve caught a bad case of ADHD, but all I know for sure is that it’s brought me back here to NYC where I can (sort of) make it right again.