I Regret Nothing

“I will be almost finishing my university degree, having my own flat and being promoted at the company that I’ve just started working at”

That would have been the answer if I asked my-eighteen-years-old-self what I will be doing at twenty-two. Inaveryproudandsuffocatingvoicetone.

Now, that I have twenty-two, I am finishing a completely not-planned-at-all ten months trip around the Middle East, Europe, and Thailand.

In fact, I’m about to take a plane to go back to Paris just to see one more time the person that I fell in love with three months ago.

I quitted my studies four times and have no home but, my bedroom at my mother’s house. And still, I regret nothing.

I won’t lie, sometimes, when I realize all that I’ve been through to be where I am now, I get to be very proud of myself, while, other times, it feels like I’m wasting my life, because of the chip.

How can this freedom that leads me to happiness ever be a waste?

Surprisingly, the people who tell that I’m doing anything but something accurate are the ones who are stressed at work, crying over university exams and carrying a hollow chest. Worshippers of society’s chip.

And, on the other side, there are people who encourage me to start writing untold adventures, and these are the ones that I admire the most; Fellows who just couldn’t be bothered about what is supposed to be and started worshipping what they wanted to be.

And, don’t get me wrong, if your dream when you were a child was having a successful life by, whatever you still think success means to you and you are working for it then I clap you.

But:

In case that you are the type of person who does not listen to your feelings because you’re too scared of what you might discover and as a consequence you are putting your frustrations on somebody else’s lack of plans to be unhappy, then, you can kindly fuck off and myself at eighteen years old as well.

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