I've always loved travelling, looking at my current life from a distance, imagining how my life could've gone in a totally different direction. I still have dreams of flight, changing my reality, live a simple life...but I don't always follow through, and I usually choose to come back.
No matter how enlightened or how many roads I've travelled, that hole in me keeps getting bigger. It burns, it aches and it hurts.
I don't know since when I've started equating travelling with heartbreak.
I don't know since when I've started running away. I'm tired, I'm done, I don't want to wait, I don't want to hear and I don't want to know. I've wondered if this is too good to be true, and...it is.
I'm running away because I deserve to be happy. I don't deserve you and I don't care about your past and I don't want to be affected by any of it. I just want to be happy and free. It might be sad to live indifferently, but what can I do?
And so, I'm running away, I go on missing, and I try to philosophize, to make some sense to this mess...