Unlike so many people, I can't say I've ever really had wanderlust. Sure, I love to travel and see the world but only knowing that there is home to come back to at the end of it. I'm not adventure hungry, I'm more about constants, resistance to change, familiarity. Even the littlest changes (like when my car got sold) drive me into a sentimental frenzy. After 3 years in Perth I still get that ache for KL that comes out of nowhere. So it's kind of weird that lately I've been having thoughts about uprooting and disappearing to another place: a foreign country that is more like a foreign world. Spain maybe. Or my beloved Paris. Or Japan. Maybe Bali since according to Eat, Pray, Love it is very easy to live in Bali. Just somewhere far away where I'd know nobody and have no friends. I would probably fail miserably at re establishing myself in a brand new society and live out the rest of my days in isolation but who cares. Because what's the point of staying in a place where your existence is gradually being forgotten, and you matter less and less to your surroundings everyday. If this place doesn't hold any love for you anymore, it's better to leave it right? This is not a boohoo my friends don't like me anymore so I am emo post, it's just something that's on my mind. There are only so few people left whom I can call real friends and even those fragile connections are quickly dissolving thanks to time and distance.