Sick thoughts

I have just watched the last season of Sex and the City again. Because I am sick, staying in bed all day and running out of dvds to watch. There is one thing I realized after having to put a stop to time and space and watching SATC all over again: I think I am moving to the next phase. Or more painfully so, I should be moving to the next phase and somehow I am not doing it yet...
Let me explain. Last night I couldn't sleep anymore, my fever was high but couldn't stand to be in bed anymore because my thoughts were tormenting me. I started walking around the house and doing a bit of exercising as not to focus on the fact that I am 30 (well almost), single, bored and with not even one perspective of a normal relationship ahead. There were not few the times when I wondered whether it is London (God knows I have blamed this town for so many things that were going wrong in my life many times before and the only two things London is really guilty of are the crappy weather and increasing crime) or simply my inability of being happy with my life in general, but, although I am truly grateful for so many things, I realize that at this point, if I had to exit the big scene of life, it would all have been completely in vain. I have not helped anyone, I have not proved a point, I have not left my mark.
What's it all got to do with SATC? Well nothing and everything. Firstly, because the last season is all about finding the One and having a family. Secondly, because when I was first watching the series I found it really funny and cool and laughable, but I could have never pictured myself in that situation. I was still very young and sure that my life would be different and smooth. Almost ten years later, I am becoming the characters: getting older, lonelier and not so funny anymore. Even the sex talk which I thought was a bit too much at the time, it's now part of my usual routine. I don't want to be one of these women, I think it is really sad. It's funny to watch on tv, but it's not funny to live it. And that's what keeps me awake at night: what am I doing? where am I going?...
Well, at least if I loved London as much as Carrie did New York. A city that practically has no summer and hardly any outdoor activities doesn't cut it out for me anymore. I've had enough of the binge drinking every week-end, I need some food for the soul, some quality time for a change, I'm tired of being in this race towards nothing, I want to stop and breath and enjoy.
I feel that at times London's got nothing to offer to a single gal on a saturday afternoon (though a friend argued that it's just lack of imagination). Last saturday I suggested we went to the Barbican Centre (it's suppose to be cool and hype), but I found it so boring and so not worth seeing, that we just spent time in the cafeteria talking about the same things we always do. I find museums extremely boring lately, almost everything is boring. Unless I am totally nuts, then what do I find exciting anymore? Maybe anything can be exciting when you do it with someone you love...
To conclude: I am not going anywhere and I can't possibly remember last time I was so sad about everything. I find no more joy in things and this saddens me. I also realize I am very lonely and confused and refrain myself from crying ( I am old and wise after all) but can't help to wonder: when will I move on to the next phase?...
I feel that I need my family. My mother won't come to London, I hardly spend any time with her when I go home and I probably won't consider going back home anymore... So then, what do I have to do to feel complete? I feel that it's time to stop running...