no one told me where to go – so I went to Inez Mihaila and didn’t even get lost that bad.

Somewhere between a street named Inez Mihaila and a mall I couldn’t pronounce, I realized I’m kind of a badass bitty.

Okay, hear me out.

I went to Belgrade by myself. No drama. No itinerary curated to avoid disappointing someone else. No “are you ready yet?” or “just follow me”. Just me. A modern hotel. A city that doesn’t need your language to make you feel alive. And a very liberating amount of space to just be.

I didn’t realize how tightly I’d been holding my breath until I got here and exhaled for the first time in what feels like years.

I woke up that morning with no one’s agenda in my ear. No suggestions disguised as demands. I got ready at my own pace (which is somewhere between molasses and main character montage). I wandered, admired, laughed to myself at how good I felt doing literally nothing of consequence except… existing. Exploring. Being free.

Then came the mall.

Because obviously the one thing I do with newfound freedom is walk myself directly into capitalism. Classic.

I saw something sparkly. I bought it. I also got so lost on the way back I could feel the ghost of an ex rolling his eyes from across time and space. But here’s the twist: I didn’t panic. I just… rerouted. Found a new little street, turned around confidently even though I was 70% guessing and somehow ended up back at my little spot on Inez Mihaila like a damn GPS in heels.

And I promise you, when I saw the hotel door again, I could’ve cried. I didn’t. I just lit a cigarette. Same thing, kind of.

It wasn’t about the mall. Or the detour. Or the view (which was stunning, by the way). It was the first time in a long time I felt completely self-contained. Whole. Not waiting for someone to say “good job” or “left turn here” or “you look nice today.” I knew. Oh honey, I knew.

There’s something holy about that.

That moment you feel capable again. Not perfect. Not “fixed”. Just… back in your bones.

So yes, maybe I got a little turned around in Belgrade. But somehow, I also found a good, lost part of myself.

Fine. It’s corny. But so is choosing your wants and needs. And I’d rather be corny than lost.