I have a confession to make.
My last vacation was when I was 20.
I went to Pangkor Island and spent the three days with my 'neighbor' from the chalet beside mine.
2 guys to be exact. Tourists. We had fun, hiked, swam (Waddling for me) and had cheap box wine.
Yes it was extremely fun, and no, I didn't keep in touch with any one of them, and NO nothing happened.
Like how an acquaintance put it, 'no mojo.'
I was fresh out of a relationship, was young, was an emotional douche bag and was still, at that time, a believer of 'soulmates'.
After that, I was consumed with other shit heads and douche bags such as myself. What can I say douches attract douches.
Joyce kept on bugging me with beach vacation packages. She said I need a vacation, I need to leave my crackberry with my boss and just fucking get lost already.
I would say... pry it from my dead cold fingers...
I don't know if I really need one. I mean, the only reason why I don't know what gastric feels like was because I would usually just dismiss whatever shit that I had, unless it interferes with my bodily functions.
But... it's going to be a brand new year in 3 more months... who knows? I might be on my way to that beach in Bali, doing my salutations on the beach (Even the thought of that sounds nice), toes crunching the sand.
One can hope... ONE CAN HOPE.