Why Am I A Man On The Move?



Hey Guys -


I wanted to take the time to personally say hi, thank you for stopping by.


I hated posting this photo. This is me in bed, where I have mostly been for the past six weeks, as I am now when i'm writing this. My face is puffy, i'm hugely overweight (well over my normal limits) - but you know what, I don't give a f***! This is where i'm at. This is who I am today. This might not be me in a few months or years, but hey - hello, here I am! Nice to meet you.


My intention with this blog / creative space is shifting. I tried to just post very polished pieces that I was aiming to have published on bigger websites and magazines, but I've just been craving a space where I unleash my more unfiltered thoughts, let you in on my crazy processes and just share more of my personal style and loves.


I toyed with the idea of naming this site so many different things. Nomadic Lust, Song of the Soul, Broken-Hearted Backpacker and a few more cringey options were thrown about, but while i'm in a state of not knowing what the future for me, or this blog holds as of yet, I'll just settle with the generic but catch-all moniker of 'A Man On The Move' for now.


That title does still capture something in me. Ever since I was a kid, I wanted life to be this big adventure, this huge whirlwind ride that took me through all the beauty and madness in this world. And I made sure I took adventures and travelled wherever I could. From the first time I went solo interrailing over Italy with a one-country pass after University, which opened my eyes to the amazing experiences (and people) that were out there, to my four-month backpacking trip around Asia, I wanted the world to be my oyster. But health and family and personal situations (nevermind Covid!) had me grounded the past few years, as well as a crippling and growing depression. And I couldn't help but question why I was always so restless, why I was always between places - in transit if you will - and why I could never settle in one place. Is it the fear of abandonment? Perhaps the fear of intimacy, community and carving out roots? I don't know. All I know is that home for me isn't my childhood home, though nestled near some beautiful woods on the border of London and Essex. I'm hoping that writing and this blog will provide me with some sense of what home is for me.


Anyway - back to the present reality. Life has been pretty punishing lately. I was meant to move to Paris in January to start a Masters in Creative Writing, a dream of mine that was in the works for a year, but I was in so much inexplicable pain that even if I climbed in bed at 7pm I would struggle to wake at 10am. It got difficult to walk the 20 meters to the toilet, nevermind hop on the metro to University. I borrowed £200 from my mum and took the Eurostar back to London to get it checked out -and thank god I did. Turns out two of the discs in my spine completely ruptured and I need a discectomy. Even the doctor had no idea how that happened to a young adult. In the meantime, I'm pretty housebound and back in my childhood bedroom, so thought I'd turn back to blogging regularly as an outlet, and mainly for myself.


Perhaps i've had a slight revelation the past few days. Sometimes these life changing operations or emergency situations can trigger something inside of you. See, I've constantly stressed about what people think of me: my very validation was tied up in achievement and being 'perfect' : having a great job, being fit and handsome, being the life and soul of the party, making everyone laugh and smile... I must have got some pleasure from that but over the years I have felt pretty empty and worthless. That's where this space comes in. I just want to be me. I want to breathe. I want to show someone who I really am. The crazy, chaotic, unsexy, and warts and all side to me. I don't know who out there is reading, and at this point it doesn't matter. When i'm laying here in bed, wondering why my body has broken, and how so much of my life is still left unlived - and if i'll be ok after the operation - all I can think about is giving less of a fuck. Less of a fuck about what people may think of me if I moved country, if I decided to dress a certain way, wear makeup, dance in my underwear, and not be the 'perfect man' or even the person my parents wanted me to be.


Anyway, welcome to my world (or welcome back haha.) I don't know where this is going to go but it's a start. It might be a bit wobbly for a bit but I know it'll get better. Until then, if you want to, I would love you to


come on this journey with me.


Love,

Pritham