Dear you who is miles apart,
I have always liked travelling. It is an essence of me much like my blood and bones. I’ve never seen it as a means of escape and always as something I’m heading towards instead of away from.
After meeting you though, I’m not so sure anymore. The trip came at a right time. I think I needed this break, away from you, alone with my thoughts. And so instead of heading towards something, it feels as if I’m running away from you. Travelling ceased to be what got my heart racing and instead turned into something I choose to run off the path life is taking me towards. Well, I’m a stubborn soul and a rebel. I don’t go on gently the good night. I thrash and moan and fight. But there’s also an easy way of doing things. So I run away. The road is home to wanderer souls like myself. I detest anything long-term because life is short and full of wonderful opportunities and all that is too great to be passed up for the mere reason of something as small and inessential as stability. I like passing through things, people’s lives and places, not really making any my home but getting to live in the sanctuary of all of it.
You are what my heart heads towards to lay down and gently rest after an exerting day where my head handles all the hassle. I lay my head on your shoulder and you pull my hair hard pulling me inside the dreamworld that one can enter only when high. But I don’t have to roll a joint or grab a bottle. I just have to look at your half-smiling face and I see the door as bright as the disco ball in the sky. It is a swirly ride with you. I think I enjoy it too much for it to ever be good for me.
The one who never stays.