Rêveuse

Chapter 28.

I liked being in Sri Lanka. No one there cared enough about who we were, so no one felt the need to post any photos of us. No one knew where we were or what we were doing, like they previously had. Those twitter accounts updating our every move had nothing to update on us for weeks. It was nice. No one could say anything about us.

Of course, I wasn't supposed to care about it. If anyone asked, I didn't care about it. There was a time where I didn't care about what people thought or said about me. During the time when I was happy and no one could get to me. Either because it didn't matter, because I was confident enough then, or because I was so up on a high that I was sure people were just jealous. They always say that people who say all those negative things are always jealous. But I don't really care about the hate as much as I care about the people micro analyzing everything.

"She looks paler and skinnier... I hope she's okay."

It comes from a place of concern, which isn't necessarily bad, but when you feel okay, maybe even feel like you look good, and someone says you look sickly, you feel beaten down.

Don't look at it. Don't read it. Don't let it get to you. Turn your comments off. Just don't look. When people are talking about you, isn't it just burning in you to know what they're saying? Besides, they're everywhere. They are everywhere. The comments, the tweets, the messages. Everywhere.

That's why my goal is to stop caring. To feel confident and secure in myself to be able to read it and shrug it off. I need to feel happiness and confidence again, but I don't know how. I'm starting to find happiness. I think. What if I'm just running? What do I need to be happy?

A purpose. Something to do. Something I can do for a long time. A career, something I enjoy and a path to take. I was just floating around in existence without a direction. Nothing to work towards. When I was dancing, I had something to work towards — being the best in my sport. I was good at it too. I needed that again, to feel happy. I need something to work towards. But I can't dance anymore and I don't know what to do instead.

I was sitting on the beach one evening, with my short hair not bothering me as it would have done when it was long. I was practicing my drawing, like I had done a lot when Evie and I first started traveling. Maybe it could be my next thing. The thing to step in instead of dancing.

Mom had sent me a photo earlier that day. Charles had gotten a puppy with Madeline. I think it's his but she's going to help him take care of the dog while he's away. I don't understand how he thinks he's going to be able to have a dog when he's barely home. Madeline will be stuck at home with his puppy while he's away working.

I didn't say anything, but I realized then that it wasn't going to last a lot longer between them. She'd get bored. The lack of time together will make them both think longer about the relationship until one of them realizes they can't do it anymore. Probably her, because she'll get bored of sitting at home by herself, taking care of his home and his dog. Of course they'll be able to bring that dog with them when he's not a puppy anymore, but until then it'll be strenuous.

Maybe they got the dog for the same reason some people have babies. As a final resort to make the relationship work.

I put my pen down and I stop myself from thinking I know anything about their relationship. I shouldn't be so negative about their relationship. Charles is my friend and Madeline is super nice to me. I can't think negatively about them and their relationship. They could probably make it work.

"New hair looks so good on you, Bianchi," Miles, one of the American volunteers, says as he approaches from behind, walking through the sand with his sneakers. "Mind if I sit down?" He asks.