08/10/2025 - I am my own best friend.

Since this morning, I can’t help but think about the near end of this experience, and right now, I have to admit, it can’t come soon enough. I know, I know… I’ll miss it when it’s over. But not right away. I’ve had enough of dormitories, mediocre dinners, snoring strangers, ankle aches, and everything in between. I just want to be done. And yet, I also know I’m not ready for the waves of emotion that will crash over me when I arrive in Santiago. I can’t even think about it; my throat tightens, my eyes water, so I quickly shift my mind elsewhere.

Be warned: I’m feeling extra PMS-y today. I’ve been through so many different emotions on this journey, it feels like I’ve lived ten lives in one. Of course, there’s the external adventure: the walking, the encounters, the villages, the churches, the weight of history. But the inner journey has been even more intense.

I feel like I need to cry. I don’t know why exactly. My heart feels tight, my throat too, as if the valves need to open and release it all. But there’s no clear reason, no specific person or story to attach it to. So I’ll keep writing. Usually, somewhere in the flow, I find the nerve that triggers the tears.

I woke up around 6:30am, got ready, and packed my bag. My face felt puffy, a new pimple had appeared on my chin, and I didn’t have the energy to care. I sat at the bar of the albergue, ordered a coffee, called my dad, waited for the sun to rise, and finally hit the road. Twenty-seven kilometers today, with a thousand meters of descent. I knew it would be tough, but I just took it one step at a time.

My mind drifted to the book idea I mentioned yesterday. I’ve been shaping its plot for years now. I even wrote parts of it once but stopped because I wasn’t as confident as I am today. I wasn’t yet ready to claim writing as my calling. But I always knew I’d return to it. And on this Camino, the story has been resurfacing, characters coming back from the dead, shaping themselves as I walk.

For the first hour, I recorded ideas: the concept, the protagonist and antagonist arcs, the hero’s journey, the world-building, the twists of fate, and sent it all to ChatGPT to organize it properly. I now understand why I couldn’t give it my all before. I needed to rediscover the beauty of commitment, the kind that takes years to mature. Castles, pyramids, great works of art, they’re all built through sustained effort, dedication, and resilience toward a distant vision.

I’m ready for that chapter now. Ready for what’s next, for big projects that require devotion and patience. I’m no longer afraid to take the time. I’m ready to commit to what nourishes my soul, step by step, until it all comes to life. And well, here come the tears. I’ve grown so much this past month. I’ve found something in me I didn’t even know I was searching for.

This Camino opened doors to what’s possible, and more importantly, to what I’m capable of. I know I’ll create masterpieces, because I already am one. The canvases of my soul are worth beholding. I’ve reached a level of self-esteem, self-worth, and self-acceptance I once only dreamed of. Is this what unconditional love feels like? I comfort myself when I need it, pep talk myself when it’s tough, but never judge anymore. I’ve built this intimate bond within me; nothing can break it. I am my own best friend.

I can’t believe I’m writing this while crying. Second period coming on the Camino, and once again, I’m alone in the dorm, perfect setting for a good cry, lol. I’m listening to “Sweet” by Cigarettes After Sex, which fits perfectly with the mood.

I can’t believe these words are mine. I used to hate myself, to be so hypercritical that I never thought I’d get here, to truly love myself. My teenage years were brutal. When my mum passed away, I carried guilt, shame, regret. They lingered, unhealed, and drew more of the same through unconscious choices that matched my low sense of worth. I thought I deserved to suffer.

I’ve come such a long way. And I did it, I transformed my way of thinking, feeling, and living. Not through faking it, or suppressing the dark parts, but by facing myself. By acting on what felt right. By allowing even the most uncomfortable emotions to pass through. I reparented myself, held myself accountable, and tried a whole lot of fucking things to find peace. And today, I’m at peace, with a few hormonal waves crashing on the shore, but I wouldn’t have it any other way.

To whoever is reading this: it’s never too late. You’ve never gone too far, done too much, or become too broken. Whatever happened, you can choose to leave it behind and start again now. A life without love, hope, dreams, or self-commitment is a life half-lived. You deserve to live, just because you’re alive. And yes, this might be the corniest thing I’ve ever written, but corny is cute, caring, and full of heart, which is exactly who I am today.

I’m reclaiming the innocent part of my heart. It has nothing to do with being only pure or saintly, believe me, I’m far from that. If you think you can picture my naughty side, just multiply it by ten. Don’t be fooled by the angel face. One doesn’t cancel the other. I am both. My heart, though, is pure in its intention. I’m done diluting it to make others comfortable with their self-destruction. I choose love. Always.

I finished All About Love today, and it only confirmed what I already felt about integrity, morality, and purpose. I walked for what felt like eternity, stopping a few times, sitting, breathing, and moving again. When I reached Sarria, it felt liberating. I checked into my albergue, found my bed, and slipped into my afternoon routine.

I’d planned to eat at a vegetarian restaurant that opened at six, but by four I was starving and ended up in a Spanish hacienda, mediocre again. I ordered chicken nuggets and fries, so maybe that’s on me, haha. But nothing looked appealing; I just wanted comfort. I overate, then stopped by a supermarket for chocolate.

Back in bed, I devoured the whole tablet while watching Kingdom of Heaven. I can’t believe I’d never seen it before. Fun fact: Orlando Bloom was my first childhood crush, not as Will Turner, but as Legolas from The Lord of the Rings. I had a poster taped by my bed at the perfect height to kiss him goodnight every evening. I could psychoanalyze my taste in men from that, but I’ll save it for another time.

Now I’m back in bed, editing my blog article and finishing the movie. Hopefully I’ll fall asleep early and recover before another big day tomorrow. Only four left before Santiago, which feels like enough fuel to keep me going.

I’m leaving a piece of my love on this page, even if it’s just virtual, so you can find it when you read this and carry it with you through the rest of your day. Love you. Puss puss. <3

With love, Loune.