My little corner. My little brain

I have my own little corner in this world.

I have had other corners before. Not many square metres. Never.

But a place that I can call mine. Just mine. My little 50-something square metres. My home.

It didn't come easy. It isn't easy. But at least t's my space. My little tiny space on this planet. At least I have this.

And I get to see this sunset. I smell the perfume of the boats, the harbour. It reminds me of the world out there.

I have lived on a small island for 5 years. And a couple of days. That altogether 1825 days. Plus a couple more days. Those are many long days for someone like me. I miss the world. I miss change. I don't like the same all the time.

But I like to have my space. I don't mind if it changes every now and then. But a space. A place. Mine. My rules. My standard.

Change, I love.

I love you, change.

Can my little 50 square something metres little space that I call my own change soon to something else, somewhere else- that would make me happy. I smell the world out there. The first 20 years of my life, I was smelling the world out there. From within that country I was born in.

This week has been very hard. I felt as if I was about to get a stroke. I had stress inside my brain, threatening to explode. Too much. I do too much. I take on too much. Responsibility and work and load and children and cooking for everyone and taking care of all of it. And not myself. So my brain want to explode as a warning. Warning! Warning received. Change is needed. Change is good.

Two children. I have. Both were sick. Sick, they were, very much so. I was working, caring, looking after. Working more than full time. Caring for. Everyone. Too many.

I am only ONE. They are so many. All those that I am serving. Too many, they are.

I had a trip planned. To London. I lost it. Planned since January. Lost. It. I lost it.

They were sick, I couldn't leave. I wanted to go so much, I had all those pictures in my mind of London, my old home, my beloved city, my place. One of my places, my spaces. Lost. For love. Love of my children. Love of me? Not. Existing. Don't know how to. Take care. Of me. Me. Who? Me.