Leaving The Beach

Driving my motorbike along the Golden Lions roundabout, past the Fortuna casino and down to Sokha Beach. Along the big resort and beyond, onto the quiet, winding stretch to Independence Beach. Here the road turns inland through some lush vegetation where wild monkeys roam. I keep on going. Full speed ahead. Past the giant construction site formerly know as Hawai Beach. Turning left at Snake House and then along Victory Beach. Right before the port I take a sharp right onto the steep road to Victory Hill. From here on it's the main road, Ekereach Street, all the way down to the Lions again. I've been doing this little ride for years. Whenever I needed to unwind, speeding down the coastal road on a Honda Dream. The simple pleasures of life.
But today I continue to Apple Guesthouse, near Occheuteal beach. I turn off the ignition for the last time, hand the keys over at the reception and settle my bill. Then, almost as an afterthought, I ask for a bus ticket for the following day.
"Where to?", the receptionist asks.
"Kampot"
"How many people?"
(Something stuck in my throat, try to clear it, fail, mumble incomprehensibly until, with huge effort I get that damned word out)
"One"

I go sit on the beach. Drinking cold beers on my own while staring at the sea. Contemplating the consequence of leaving. I feel very sad and utterly alone.

After dark, Daria and I meet for the very last time. We talk, cry, scream, hug, drink and cry and kiss and scream and drink and drink and drink. In the end, she leaves on the back of a moto into the Snooky night. From her on out, I'm all alone. My own dog, alright, but very alone…

It's easy to dream about being an independent traveler. Acting upon it makes me shit scared. Can't breath, can't think. Just want to phone Daria, apologies and stay with her for the rest of my days. This is my place, right? This is were I belong. People like me are ignored everywhere else. There's a very clear reason why I keep gravitating down to Snooky. At least, here I've got something going. Yes, I felt like a giant sucker for falling in love in Snooky for a second time. But leaving seems (almost) worse.

You see; I'm a very shy, insecure and mediocre dude. Probably lucky to have known any kind of love at all. Not exactly the most suitable personality for a life of travel and adventure. In Brussels there are days that I'm to scared to even leave my apartment...

But my mind's made up. This time there's no turning back.
Sorrowful as it is to leave sweet Miss Daria behind...
I'm leaving in the morning at the break of dawn.

Can't decide whether this is a very brave or very foolish thing to do.

Beyond Snooky, it's all The Great Unknown to me...