It's been exactly a year since I first started on my lifelong dream of seeing the world. I conquered 11 cities in 5 countries since then, and spent 52/365 days overseas. Each time, I returned to Singapore with post-travels depression and bought tickets for my next holiday almost immediately; the shortest, only a week break between my travels.

I travelled alone most of the time, and I had no problem dealing with loneliness. The gaps in between — the times I wished I had someone by my side — were filled with adventures I had, the things I would have never done if I weren't alone.

A wandering soul who constantly craves for adventures, I knew I wanted to spend my future travelling. I wanted to be in anywhere but Singapore. I gave myself three years, I worked hard for a month-long backpacking travel, and I planned to relocate in a country I fell in love with. But all of my plans came crashing down when I turned down a travel opportunity, initially scheduled to be in March.

I knew what was wrong.

"How dangerous," she paused then sighed, 
"and beautiful to meet someone worth staying for."

I acquired new knowledge with every travel, learning more about people as I travelled. I learnt what having feelings can do to someone, and the human's fickle mind scared me. I flinched when someone inched closer; it usually takes only one month before I'm out again. I never thought I was ready, much less capable of feelings again.


I fell for him, but I'll drown myself in three bottles of whisky before I admit it.

(Written 22 Feb 2017)