21/09/2025 - A part of me would rather stay nonchalant.

Yesterday was another rollercoaster of emotions, nothing new on the Camino, but this one felt like the closing chapter of the eclipse, ending on a surprisingly high note. Looking back, I see the same thread. I’ve been chasing for so long. Chasing my person, my vocation, my place in the world. Always searching, always running. And when I left Amsterdam, I made a decision. To stop. To drop the chase altogether. To stop running after what I thought I needed and let life happen on its own terms.

I’ll meet this guy eventually, I’ll figure out what I’m meant to be doing, I’ll find a place to call home. Maybe it’ll take weeks, months, or years, who knows. In the meantime, what matters is joy. Having fun. Accepting where I am, which is here, in the middle of the journey. Not just the Camino, but life itself. I’m only twenty-nine. There’s still time to reach all the destinations. Honestly, where would be the fun if I already had everything I desired? Though… let’s be real, I do want to meet this guy. Please, universe, send him my way now, hihi. Okay, I’ll stop. I promise. I know, I need to release it.

If I go deeper, it’s not even that I want to meet “the one” right now. I just want to have fun, and enjoy myself before I meet him. But there’s such a scarcity of men who can live in the present, who can enjoy without projecting into the future while still letting themselves feel and fall in love. Why are people so scared of love? Yes, it hurts if it ends, but isn’t it worth it to let it happen, to feel it all? We’ll survive the hurt anyway. We may as well become lovers and figure it out later.

But no. Men these days want non-commitment without emotions attached. They close themselves off before anything can even begin, just because they’ve already decided I’m not “the one.” As if I even believed they were. Still, I would’ve enjoyed the emotional ride. Instead, they retract at the slightest cue of feeling. They won’t engage, won’t be curious, won’t let themselves fall. And what’s left? Mid-connection. Mid-sex. Mid-everything. I can’t anymore with this kind of hook-up. I want romance, or I want the love of my life. I can’t just fuck without attachment, it’s empty.

Yesterday I felt like shit for not being loved. Today I realize there’s nothing wrong with me, nothing missing. I am whole. I just need another whole human to meet me there. That subject is closed. For now, lol. We can move on.

This morning, I woke up in the apartment at 7am. Not at my best, but excited to be back on track with my quest. I missed it yesterday, crazy to admit, but it feels good to walk toward a destination I’ve set my mind to. I needed that break, and I could feel it when I walked. My legs lighter, my knee fine, my body recharged. My mind clearer now that I’m back on the Camino.

I walked for five hours, and it went smoothly. When I checked my phone and realized I only had an hour left, I couldn’t believe it. I stopped twice, for coffee, for a call, just to relax. This rhythm works well for me. When I arrived in Hornillos, I bought a chorizo sandwich and a block of regional cheese, then had a little picnic in the sun. Shower, laundry, stretching on the grass, and now here I am on my bed. This hostel is nice, clean, spacious, comfortable. I feel good here. I’ll nap, read, work, and see what unfolds.

By evening, I found myself sitting at a long table with the whole hostel for dinner. They served paella straight from a gigantic pan, and it was delicious. At first, I wasn’t in the mood to talk to anyone, but when the silence around me dragged on, I decided to spark the conversation myself. I ended up chatting with two ladies in their seventies. We started with the usual Camino conversation, but quickly drifted into deeper territory. Friends they lost during Covid whose ashes they now carry, my mother and the signs I see about her, and the bigger meaning of life.

And yet, even then, I wasn’t fully present. I haven’t been all day. I feel split in two, wanting to share my life, to keep posting online, but also doubting the whole point of it. Who really cares about what I have to say? How silly of me to keep posting if no one reads it? But that’s not true. People do read. I see the views. I get comments, even private messages.

What drains me isn’t the writing, it’s the promotion. It feels like standing at a fair, shouting for people to buy tickets to my attraction. A part of me would rather stay nonchalant, like, “I don’t need to promote myself.” But the truth is, I do. If I want to reach more readers, I have to keep putting myself out there, keep repeating it until the ones who are seeking my kind of writing can find me. Because that’s what it takes.

Maybe I’m wrong, maybe I shouldn’t even bother. Or maybe I need to make it more playful, add photos for example. I tried vlogging, but honestly, it doesn’t hold me. Too many moments where I don’t want to film, don’t want to carry the camera, don’t want the hassle. Writing feels natural, filming doesn’t. If anything, maybe I’ll keep videos simple, just on my phone. Or maybe the whole showcase thing isn’t my path at all.

Still, something keeps pulling me there. Writing is one of the only things I love more than mostly anything else. But maybe it’s meant to remain a tool for me, not a career. I can’t imagine writing fantasy again, or later. What I love is writing about what I’m living, raw and real. And maybe that isn’t meant to “sell.” Maybe it’s just meant to be shared. I don’t know. I feel lost in this.

But then I ask, would I still write if no one read it? Yes. I did for years. So the problem isn’t the writing, it’s the promotion, posting daily, reminding people again and again. Should I stop? But if I stop, people won’t think to come by themselves. There’s too much noise online. And I’ve committed to posting until the end of the Camino, so I’ll stick with it. I’ll just have to deal with the cringe of self-promotion, with people attaching this desire to me.

And maybe that’s the real trigger, that by showing up every day, I’m claiming this. I’m not moving in all directions anymore, impossible to pin down. I’m saying this is what I want. I want to be read. I want to be seen as a writer. I’ll accept the repetition, the claiming, the cringe, because that’s the path. And yes, it’s triggering for people who haven’t claimed their own identity yet. But that’s not my problem.

At the start of every project, there’s always this moment; the claiming. The shift where people start seeing you differently, through the lens of what you’re declaring for yourself. That’s where I am. And I won’t backtrack. I want it, so I’ll keep saying it, posting it, writing it, until it’s undeniable. Until people see me as a writer, not just someone dabbling on the side.

If I quit now, that’s all it will ever be, a silly side project. But if I keep going, it becomes my truth. That’s the power of claiming. And that, my friend, is also how I pep talk to myself, and keep motivation through life to move with intention. Lol.

With love, Loune.