I'm back in Hamburg as a 23 year old with salty hair and freckly skin. I'm also completely alone in an apartment for the first time in almost two years. And I've unpacked my bags for the first time since mid June. It feels lonely as fuck and I'm not liking it at all. Lately I've realized that I've turned into a person who's scared of being alone. It didn't use to be this way. I used to crave moments of alone time, but now I almost dread them. I don't want it to be that way. But maybe that's what happens when you feel about as stable as a flickering light. I'm hurting and I think living life as normal when you're hurting is close to impossible. I'm trying as hard as I can though. And it can only go better from here, right? What I do is that I write. My moleskin that I got just before I left New York is already full. It works better for me than to talk to someone about how it feels because even I don't know how it feels. How the fuck are you supposed to know? When you are perfectly happy one second and then something throws you back and you feel like you could break down the next. I have no idea what's going on and I don't recognize myself in it. I'm not this kind of person. I'm not someone who can't be alone. The opposite. There is so much going on in my head, it feels like I've ran a marathon every night when I go to bed. So I guess it's probably just healthy for me to spend some time alone with my thoughts and not push them away like I have for these last couple of weeks. Just feel whatever has to be felt and let whatever happens happen. Maybe I can even watch a movie from beginning to end without having to stop because my whole body itches from restlessness.