December 20, 2021

I stopped saying much because I no longer had anything to say.

What is there left to say when you feel like vanishing into the air and becoming invisible?

What is there left to say when all you're consumed with is thinking about how you wish you were more like the air.

Everywhere and nowhere at the same time.

Silent and soft yet loud and rough.

Connected to it all.

Free to move.
Free to be still.

It's the unpredictability of the next moment that I feel at home within.

Spontaneous living.

I treat myself better when I'm free.

I have been feeling so fucking trapped.

Living amongst books and the words of thousands of people who have entered and left this world.

How do you not make yourself wrong for wanting to leave the comfort of a stationary home for the open road?

Staying somewhere new every night.

Being labeled 'homeless' even though it'd be your choice and you'd be so fucking happy.

These are the things I haven't been saying.

And I don't really need anyone to understand them but me.

I'm okay with that.

But what's my next step?

Plunge into the unknown and leave everything I've ever known behind or get a job and save for the Van Life I've always dreamed of.

Either way, I know I will be back on the road.

Seeing new things, meeting new people, and feeling at one with myself and the world again.

I just wish it'd hurry up because my heart breaks every day that I go without this.

I become more numb. Depressed. Less present.

So disattached from my reality and I know exactly how to plug myself back in but I feel tugged in a million different directions. 

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