This is a common problem among travelers I think but for me it has been especially hard. Traveler's depression when you come home. And I am suffering from it big time.
I love to travel.
I love to move.
I love to have no plans.
I love to be spontaneous.
I love culture.
I love to be whoever I want.
I love things I've never seen.
I love sleeping in hostels.
I love living with the minimal things I need.
I love not caring about what I look like or what I'm wearing.
I love showing up in a new city, knowing no one, and having to figure it out.
I love wandering without a map. I love being exhausted, alone, lost and confused.
I love make new friends based on the most random common experiences
I love meeting locals and learning their way of life
I love being free of any real obligation
I love searching for the cheapest drink in town
and I love walking into a room of strangers with traveling souls, and transforming them into lifelong friends
And it's all over. and it is very hard. and depressing. All I want is to go back.
It is one of those things where I feel like now that I'm home everything that happened has disappeared. Were the last 6 months a dream? A perfect, lovely, amazing, dream. Most days I can't even convince myself that it really happened.
I'm not sure what to do about it other than to start planning the next one.....
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