Waypoint
My whole life I’ve basically mapped out the exits: out of Bavaria first, then Berlin, and eventually Tokyo for real. I know that sounds like something you plan when you’re twelve and haven’t learned better yet, but the chaos between those checkpoints—the unreliable loves, the half-finished projects, the not knowing what comes next—that’s actually the only part that keeps me functional. A life without friction, without risk, without the possibility of fucking it up completely, would kill me. I’d rather take a few hits for chasing something stupid than live a decade in perfect, bloodless comfort.
Berlin did what it needed to do. It was far enough from my origins, gave me work and people and enough distance to figure out who I was without my parents watching. But the map says England comes next. This autumn I’m moving to the south coast—Bournemouth, maybe London too—for six months on an EU study program. Language courses, design work, the usual excuse to relocate and pretend it’s educational. A few friends are coming, so it’ll probably be chaos again, but at least it’ll be the right kind.
We’re preparing by watching Skins and rewatching Harry Potter, which isn’t preparation for anything real but it feels good. There’s something about that specific British mood—the claustrophobia, the romance, the way kids just barely hold it together—that I want in my head before I arrive. Or maybe we’re just procrastinating properly and pretending it’s intentional.
The real thing is that England isn’t the finish. It’s a waypoint, a test run before the actual commitment. Six months and then I’m doing it: Tokyo, the part of the plan that’s been sitting there since I was a kid, the one that actually scares me. England is just to prove I can actually move when I say I’m going to.
I’ll miss Berlin. The specific quality of its nothing-ness, the Saturday afternoons, the people I know well enough now that I’d have to actually say goodbye instead of just leaving. But I’m also ready to go. There’s something important about outgrowing a place, about knowing it’s time. And the knowledge that you can come back somehow makes the leaving easier.