I often check my desires. They are often indicative of things I do not want.
This desire to leave everything behind stems more from my need to run away from things, people, than from a need to actually be in a new place.
That can't be right, can it? It's like wanting to marry so you can leave your parents behind. It can only go wrong. Or wanting to flirt with somebody you don't dislike so the person you dislike can leave you alone. Where is the love? Where is the enamour? The twinkle in the eye, the high of something new that you actually desire for its own sake? All missing, replaced by escapism. Cowardly and short sighted.
I also think it comes from wanting to know if I can, actually, leave things behind. The little things I am used to , that I love. It's a bit like a test; can I do this? Will I fare well? Will I be able to detach from what I thought I could not live without? Will I be able to leave this faucet behind, which only I know how to stop from dripping? Will I be able to leave this friend behind whose voice is more familiar to me, now, than my own?
Will I be able to leave behind people who I thought meant everything to me even if, now, I mean nothing to them? How tough will it be? How much will I pine? Will I get homesick for a place that may or may not be mine?
It's a test too. Push push push. Bleed bleed bleed. Sew sew sew. Mend mend mend. See how you can go until you cannot.
I often check my desires. They are often indicative of things I will carry within me even after I escape.
This desire to leave everything behind stems more from my need to run away from things, people, than from a need to actually be in a new place.
That can't be right, can it? It's like wanting to marry so you can leave your parents behind. It can only go wrong. Or wanting to flirt with somebody you don't dislike so the person you dislike can leave you alone. Where is the love? Where is the enamour? The twinkle in the eye, the high of something new that you actually desire for its own sake? All missing, replaced by escapism. Cowardly and short sighted.
I also think it comes from wanting to know if I can, actually, leave things behind. The little things I am used to , that I love. It's a bit like a test; can I do this? Will I fare well? Will I be able to detach from what I thought I could not live without? Will I be able to leave this faucet behind, which only I know how to stop from dripping? Will I be able to leave this friend behind whose voice is more familiar to me, now, than my own?
Will I be able to leave behind people who I thought meant everything to me even if, now, I mean nothing to them? How tough will it be? How much will I pine? Will I get homesick for a place that may or may not be mine?
It's a test too. Push push push. Bleed bleed bleed. Sew sew sew. Mend mend mend. See how you can go until you cannot.
I often check my desires. They are often indicative of things I will carry within me even after I escape.
