There is a point while you are traveling that you get used to leaving.

You get used to the goodbyes and the broken smiles. You accept the un-attachment and the “Having a last beer together”. You know from A to Z all the thank you speeches and the nervous laughs before doing a 180° spin and never come back.

And is because I know all of the above by mind and soul that I thought that I was ready, that I wasn’t going to have any major problem with leaving Thailand.

But I was wrong. It all turned up to be one huge great major and I wasn’t aware of it until I hugged the first person goodbye.

The thing is, I am very conscious and comfortable with the fact that I don’t know what will happen until it happens. So I normally just assume that my reaction will go with the flow. 

Well, I couldn’t go with the flow. I couldn’t because it hurt. 

It hurt like when I was a child and I ripped my primary teeth off because I couldn’t wait any longer for fairy tooth to come. 

Leaving Koh Phangan felt unnatural. Like there was definitely something not right, something unfinished even if I did everything I had to do on the Island.

They said I got the bug, and though I don’t know when I am coming back, they know that I’m doing it. 

Is not like I felt like home (maybe because I haven’t found one yet) but it felt different to anywhere I’ve ever been. 

Like holding a magic box that only gives fantastic anecdotes sprinkled with illegal contexts. 

It’s like a coupon for unlimited laughs available 24/7/365.

It’s like an “I don’t ever want to leave” sign on every door.

I can blame it on being Latin-American, over passionate. But it feels way fairer if I blame the beauty of the places, sunsets and people that I crossed path in the last months. 

Is not like I’m incomplete but there is something missing that I can’t afford to let go. You know what I mean?

Let me put it in this way: Is having the possibility of being myself in every single state of mind without being asked what’s going on today.

It’s the joint that I can’t wait to share again.

So I guess that yes. I know what will happen next. They are right. I got the bug. 

When a feeling like this one hits you, you have no chance but to forget everything you know about leaving places and start learning about returning. Even for a person like me, that planning means a sacrifice for mental health.

After all, no one said that being a Shenanigan was an easy task.

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