I’m not depressed.
I’m bored with my life.
I want railroads.
I want the rushing energy of a new surrounding.
I want people I’ve never met.
I want people who don’t know me.
I want the exhilaration of a day spent on the highway, trying to hitch a ride, either ending in rejoice inside of a heated or cool vehicle that is strange to me, or in disappointment and having to return to a squat five miles away.
I want new.
I want places I’ve never even heard of.
I want people who don’t understand what I’m doing.
I want people who don’t understand what I’m saying.
I want to get lost in a forest so grand and magnificent, either flooded with swamps or swarmed with mosquitoes or burning with the sunlight surging through the dense treetops, and the danger of a wild animal, either ending in the rejoicing comfort of the morning dew and birds chirping hello, or in the frantic run for cover under a deafening thunderstorm which could ruin my entire pack.
I want life.
I want the thrill of not knowing what is coming next.
I want people who could fall in love with me.
I want people with souls that I could fall in love with.
I want to leave this life behind and forget about all of the people who never truly cared for me and remember all of those who greeted me with almost-final goodbyes, to find an adventure ending either in a breathtaking novel about a girl with a craving for vengeance and remembrance, or in a news story of a girl found face down in a muddy ditch late one cold night.
I don’t want to know where I’m going.
I don’t want to plan ahead.
I don’t want to give up on the life that I have planned for myself.
A little fear is alright to me in exchange for extravagant amounts of adventure lurking around each and every brand new corner.