amor fati

the love of one’s fate

I have, technically, been living out of suitcases since 2021. Which makes it five years? The number five is my life path, and those repeating 5’s are my angel numbers.

When I signed that year lease in the city - I felt something unfamiliar. It was almost as if someone put up a road block and said “not yet”. And admittingly, there was this feeling of trappedness. I was in a weird spot with my finances, freelancing had become incredibly slow, meaning I had to become financially reliant on family members. I didn’t know what to do next. I has been so used to living a European lifestyle on a North American salary (the biggest life hack) - and now I was calculating how to make a dozen eggs last for one week.

Rituals. Habits. Remembering who you are when you’re sitting on a pile of unpaid credit card bills and rejection letters from jobs you don’t want. Who are you at your core? Who was I without the Roman hedonism and escapism?

My apartment in the city was grey, but it was still beautiful. It was a one bedroom, but one of those bedrooms with sliding doors and no windows. I had a balcony I never used, and spent the majority of my time trying to figure out where to store my beauty products on the liminal counter space I had.

Sitting on my living room floor was my dedicated space of Figuring Things Out. Phone calls to the bank. To the accountant. To my sister. When my friends would come over for a debrief, I would pour us whatever was left of the wine from the night before.

I’m making my way to my third landing pad of the week, holding on to a navy suitcase that’s balancing my brown vintage purse, and I feel something. And I turn up Olivia. This isn’t a new feeling to me. Being untethered.

It’s exciting. My skin glows from a new self tanner. My beach waves are more prominent from a sea salt mist. I’m wearing a navy off the shoulder top and an old pair of Zara denim shorts from my first trip to Rome at the end of August in 2021. My toes are painted coral and peak out from my cheetah print slides. I can’t remember the last time I’ve taken public transit so often, but it makes me feel like a city girl again.

“We all need a little bit of Emily in us.” My manager tells me as I tell her about my week. How 7 suitcases and 4 boxes are spread out at friend’s apartments across the city.

Thank you. I write a note to the universe.

Thank you.