All my plants are dying.
That sentence has been floating around my mind for a day or two. I’ve deep-cleaned my room as a way to procrastinate all my other responsibilities and left my tropical plants outside while doing so.
I bought them in September, with my roommate and best friend in Brussels, and spent a good chunk of money at a plant market in Les Halles Saint-Géry. I picked them because they looked nice (not because they were easy to take care of) and promised myself I wouldn’t let them perish like the ones I had in Malta.
They were pretty for a month, started withering after two, and now, three months after purchase, they are either sick, brown, dead, or all of the above.
All my plants are dying. Not everything is meant for everyone. It is okay to give up, to let go, and to move on. Try not to take on more than you can handle.
I’ve left a lot behind this year. I left Malta, the place that I call home, even more so now that I’m no longer there (something about only missing it when you’re gone). The only thing more painful than that, although I didn’t realise it at the moment, was leaving a person behind. Maybe not forever, but for now. Loving is hard, staying friends even harder.
I left my job in a newsroom to do an internship at the European Parliament, which I also left to go back into journalism. And then I left that job to start a masters, because why stick to something when you can manically switch it up every few months? In two years of working full-time, I realised that I might be inherently anti-capitalist (or simply anti-work) and will need to find another way out, because the 9-to-5 (or 6, or 7) thing with the office is not going to do it for me.
I’m about halfway through my studies as we speak, and I’m enjoying it. There is intellect, freedom, and responsibility, which makes it a satisfactory experience overall. I’m not enjoying Brussels too much, and while I thought the city was growing on me at some point this year, that must have been Stockholm syndrome (I’m cured now).
All my plants are dying. But that doesn’t mean I failed. It doesn’t mean I didn’t give them my all, albeit for a short while, before I found out that maybe, houseplants aren't for me and don't fit my lifestyle.
I’ve travelled a lot this year, as every year. The more I move, the more I understand the need for stability. The more stable I am, the more I crave change. I’ve spent the year finding the balance, as I will spend the rest of my life. I need to be in a good place to come up with insane plans, and I need to have a good place to come back to after I've commited to them. I think I’m doing quite alright.
More than anything, I’ve tried. I’ve tried different things, given up on plenty, and found what works for me. All my plants are dying, and while I’m not necessarily a believer of fate, maybe it was meant to be. Maybe I can leave them behind in 2022, and one day, when the time is right, I can try again. Or not.