I sit here uncomfortably; the house a hive of activity.
I’d be lying if I said I didn’t wish I was more extroverted to feel comfortable joining in.
The challenge of couch surfing isn’t the couch but rather the lack of personal space at times like these. It’s nights like these that I remember just how valuable my own personal space is. A space to call mine.
It is however interesting to think of the culture and way of life they’re embracing. Weekend after weekend it remains the same. The young mentality. Quick wins. The high of the moment. Drug induced or otherwise.
Part of me would like to fit this mould to be able to genuinely enjoy such simple pleasures. And I do occasionally. But it leads me on a slippery slope. I cannot sustain such levels of enjoyment. I cannot help but feel we are missing the point…
Is not life meant for so much more than just one drunken, sleep depriving and financially crippling escapade across the dawn lit city skyline after another?
Perhaps I’m wrong. Maybe instead this is exactly what makes life the crazy adventure that it is? Raw uninhibited connection with our fellow human life-goers?
Maybe. Though I hope not. There’s a whole world to see and explore out there. And $16 vodka lime and sodas whilst trying to survive in Sydney’s eastern suburbs don’t help with such aspirations…