The Bus Is Delayed and So Am I

I Am So Fucking Tired and My Bus Keeps Getting Delayed

First it was 47 minutes.
Now it’s over an hour.
And here I am, still waiting.

I should’ve stayed in bed when I had the chance. I should’ve cancelled the whole trip.
But no—at 7:30 in the morning, after barely three hours of sleep, I still chose to get up and go.

Of course, I had all the thoughts.
Maybe I should change the departure time.
Maybe I should just cancel.
Maybe my mental state is worth more than a €16 bus ticket.
Clearly, I chose wrong.

I’m heading to Torino to pick up a suitcase I forgot on the airport shuttle bus two days ago, when I came back from Copenhagen.
Another day when I was completely sleep-deprived.

I’d woken up early to swim, do sauna, shower, and enjoy the executive breakfast at the top floor of the hotel—living my little corporate dream.
You know, that curated lifestyle that fills the holes in your soul with smoked salmon and robes.

After that luxurious little ritual, I grabbed my bag of dirty Copenhagen clothes (still unwashed after a month), went to the airport, and flew to Torino.
From there, I had to catch a shuttle, and then a train to Milano.
I passed out on the shuttle.
Woke up, confused, rushed out—and left my suitcase behind.
I realized it too late, ran after the bus, nearly fainted from exhaustion, but didn’t catch it.

So now, here I am, standing in a bus station two days later, waiting for a ride to Torino that’s now delayed by two full hours.

Honestly, something about me lately attracts this kind of chaos.
Maybe it’s my burned-out energy screaming at me to slow down.
And I hear it. Loud and clear.

I’ve hit a limit again.
I’ve been pushing too hard, going too far—and now it’s time to retreat.
So I canceled all my future travels for the next three months.

I know a lot of this anxiety is from lack of sleep.
But it's also the accumulation of constantly being on the move, giving all of myself, everywhere.
And now, I need to give that same energy to me.

I may sound careless sometimes, but I’m not.
I know myself deeply. I know when I’m thriving, and when I’m falling apart.
And now, I know I need to pause.

The truth is, I love pushing limits. I’ve always loved it—knowing I can, so I do.
But since last September, my travel life leveled up.
Most of it was within Italy, but it was still nonstop.

Then January hit, and I haven’t stopped since.
And not just Italy anymore—other countries too.
Since the start of the year, I haven’t spent more than 7 to 10 days at home. Total.

All of this while trying to live the academic life, learn two languages, practice three, do sports, stay healthy, manage a blog, keep up personal projects, and nurture my friendships.
Too much.
Way too much.

And now I see it for what it is.
No regret.
Just acceptance.
It was too much. And now it’s time to rest.

I’m ready for silence.
For stability.
To recharge and reset for another season of adventure—maybe starting in August.

Until then, I’ll enjoy my own company.
Focus on my well-being.
Rest.

Also—update: I canceled the Torino trip. The bus kept getting delayed, and honestly?
It’s just clothes.

I have clothes in Copenhagen. In Milano. In Berlin. Spain. My hometown.
And now, apparently, in Torino too.

That’s my kind of chaos.