Added: Elija Kibbe - Date: 07.04.2022 08:13 - Views: 17529 - Clicks: 1876
I remained silent, staring down at my barely-eaten Pasta Primavera while trying to think of some brilliant response. Fuck it, that was a fair enough thing for my dad to say. Ever since I can remember, I have been having the same fight with my parents, friends, boyfriends, and myself. When is the soonest I can leave?
Places I loved. Places I still love. Places I miss. Places that people are tired of hearing me talk about. But do I really love these places? Would I move there or is it just a fabricated fantasy in my head? The romantic images of the streets of Paris, the exoticism of India, and the appeal of surfing in the Gold Coast? Tourism at its finest.
One thing to travel somewhere, and another to live there. Probably safe to say that my addiction to traveling and experiencing new things is my greatest strength and my greatest flaw. I learn new things, talk to strangers, make new friends, and find some form of love wherever I go.
I take things for granted, and I know that. I cannot tell you how incredibly envious I am of people who are happy staying in one place with the same group of friends, doing the same things they have been doing for years and are perfectly content with that. I could stay here and be happy forever. But then, eventually, one of us leaves.
Sometimes not by choice, but because I have my life somewhere else to get back to. I feel like I was more sure of what it was before I started traveling.
It was easy to know at the beginning. I was tired of the people and places I knew.
I was looking for some sort of inspiration for what career path to pursue. I have met backpackers, restaurant owners, pilots, fire dancers, students, entrepreneurs, soccer players, and teachers from all over the world. Makes sense that my original path has been diverted, after having observed so many alternative ones.
I need more; I need to be constantly living. These words are for us all.
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