Ho ho ho

​So I’m drunk. I mean, not like super drunk, but past the “I’m tipsy!” point. Just finished my second strong Christmas beer, and I feel good. It helped talking to my mum on the phone (which is rarely the case, as she usually sinks me way deeper into my depressive swamp.) I roasted a fucking amazing Danish ham and had it with some traditional (boring) boiled potatoes and sweet red cabbage. All in all, not bad. Actually, pretty damn good, if I’m being honest.
It’s hard being away from my loved ones. Five and a half years in Denmark, and almost six years in total abroad, have certainly taken a toll. And if there’s anything worth off of these lonely days is realizing, for certain, that I can’t do this shit any longer. All I have to show for these years are an apartment, a pretty hefty pension and bank account and a fuck bunch of art supplies. Plus a new, high paying job. Money, money, money. I have a career and belongings. That’s it. Nothing else to show for this sacrifice.
It ain’t fucking worth it.
It mustn’t be either or. I’m pretty damn sure there’s something in between. There must be. 2021, man. That’s it. That’s the magic number right there. I wanna figure things out, latest next year. Or, at least, making sure I won’t spend a third motherfucking Christmas on my own, in a row. Hopefully, I’ll be in Chile for the next one. Or I’ll be chilling with Her, my “One and Only.” Preferably, I’ll manage to do both.
Love will find its way, brothers and sisters. At the end of the day, it’s all that matters. If there’s something I’ve learned is that. These drunken, lonely days have paid off. Ho, ho, fucking ho!

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