I couldn't help but feel incredibly annoyed as she looked at the Instagram picture on her phone for the millionth time. Was I being judgmental? Possibly, but at the very least the picture had not changed, I knew. Maybe she was checking for new likes. Really? I guess traveling just brings those things out with a new intensity. Do you spend more time looking at the picture(s, major S) of you there then you do actually being there?
It's this feeling as you sit there and stare and know this life is not yours, but it was and it could be, but it's not. It's just there. You don't do life there but it waits for you as you live it out somewhere else. It goes on without you yet it stays at a standstill. When you return nothings changed yet everything has. Your place in it is gone. You feel like a foreign nomad in a place so familiar. That contradiction hurt somewhere, it really leaves you feeling empty.
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