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I've been feeling pretty stuck lately -  like the drafts of unpublished blog posts, typed out, deleted, rewritten, saved only to be deleted weeks later - photos in Lightroom that I've edited over and over, photos from exchange 2 years ago, my final semester in uni, New York and Bangkok. Somehow there are always imperfect details - a tad too blue, too warm, too saturated, too grey, too distorted, overly edited, poor grammar, the inability to find the right word - and with that, I struggle with finding the perfect balance.

And this has been frustrating in so, so many ways constantly feeling like my life is stuck in a rut, a hamster running on a wheel, if you will. No real destination, but putting one foot in front of the other just to try and get through, to get by. And ultimately achieving nothing but time lost and faded passions.

So here I am, in the humid, tropical country Singapore is, thinking back to that one Anthropology class I managed to wake myself up for in chilly Barcelona two years ago where we spent 4 hours discussing one topic - how dangerous a comfort zone can be. How we must push ourselves out of our bubble, expanding the squares bit by bit, stepping out of it again, retracting, then out again and again because as painful and lengthy it is, that is how we improve, it is how we gain perspective and it is how we grow.

Well here's my first step out of this rut - an extremely raw, unedited and poorly written post - but it's something, isn't it?