I could more than likely move to Florence, work in a coffee shop or a vintage record shop, start smoking and then live happily after.

Something about smoking in Florence seems chic. I could probably get on board with the smoking more than drinking wine. Which is also chic in Florence. What isn’t chic in Florence?

I dont hate my life, I just needed a holiday. But would I prefer my life elsewhere? How do I know the answer to this without actually trying it? Can someone read my tarot cards and let me know, please?

I am stressed by the thought of death. One day we do actually die. Hopefully, I am reincarnated as a very rich Kardashian baby or maybe something with a little less pressure, such as a ladybird. But realistically, wether you do nothing, or ‘everything’ with your life, it doesn’t matter. Because we all die.

To me, doing everything with your life is travelling the world, going to every single farmers market and leaving with a fresh-hand-blended-smoothie and an overpriced bunch of flowers wrapped in brown paper, being a model in New York, being a professional show jumper attending every Global Championship tour, marrying and having a big family to have amazing exaggerated Christmas’, rescuing every single stray animal, saving a rare species of rhinoceros, becoming a multi millionaire and pursuing every single dream you’ve ever had. And now. Moving to Florence to work in a coffee shop. When does this end? How will I ever be satisfied knowing there are so many different versions of life to live?

I am actually, very happy right now. I enjoy my job. I have a (very) hot bf. Even hotter and better friends. And a wonderful dog. But. theres a possible chance I could feel outer-worldly happy being an intern as a book editor in New York, and a chance I could meet the absolute loves of my life travelling in South East Asia? Do I just have to stop thinking? Or is that depressing. Having no dreams? Are they dreams or am I just delusional? am I having these thoughts because I am unsatisfied? Or do I read too many books based in New York, where we fall in love with older-rich-toxic men then end up living blissfully in Rome anyway?

Comparison truly is the thief of joy.

Ciao