"Oh, show me the way to the next whiskey bar..."

Last Saturday I picked up some pretty boy, who just arrived in London. We went to the same high school, but the only proper personal interaction I can remember was smoking hidden in bathroom in a running train. A couple of weeks ago he facebooked me that he’s planning to come and if he can crash on my floor. Of course I said yes. But then I look at my floor and got him a room in a place I live in.

The very first day, he fell in love with The Bitch, saw a concert and got some free weed. And got home alone, while me and Suzi discovered her backstage and a fridge with free booze in it.

I got home on Easter morning just to find him up and ready to spam Central restaurants and pubs with CVs. And it worked. He got a job and a place to live.

The other day we were sitting in my room and smoking cigs freshly smuggled from Poland.

-I don’t regret I dropped out. I would finish the course I hated, get a boring job, get married, make some kids. And that’s it. And now? Now everything is an adventure.

While he was talking I looked at my celling that lately began to leak. And wondered what happened with that brave girl coming to London with one small red suitcase filled with books and cigs. Arriving at Victoria with no one to pick her up and finding her way to a room found on gumtree.

He made me realize how still I let my life to be. Forgetting that I’m in charge of every day of it, not only the place I live in.

So, I’m moving out next week. I’m not sure where yet, but it’s all about adventure, right?