Staring at the map of the world on the wall in front of me, I feel lost. Here, people come and go. They come, share their stories, connect you for a little while with the places they came from and then they leave. I stay. And I miss them. I miss these people. These beautiful people. But now I feel lost, maybe somehow forgotten here, in this little country of mine, in this little town, while the world awaits with open arms.

Tired of the same old paths, of the same old ways, tired of sleeping in the same bed every night, I’m searching for the new. I’m actually hungry. Hungry for the new. I feed my soul with new places, with new people and their stories. I feed with new paths and grow a new life. I have to go. I need to go far, far away. I have to get away from the old. Otherwise I’ll just suffer.

The old, the routine, crushes your soul into nothingness if you let it. Sometimes, I see people walking around, but already dead on the inside. I can see them going to work, then coming back home. I can see them making money in order to make a living. But somehow they are already dead. I see that in their eyes while they’re running around in circles for their whole life and I do not understand. I do not understand why one would not care about his soul. I do not understand why one should live and die in the same place.

Therefore I cannot accept my old life any more. I cannot do the same things any more. Some would say that I am just running away. Though I think I am not running away from something, but towards something else. I am running towards something new. Towards something that feeds my soul in a way that nothing else can do.

It’s always that new chapter that keeps us going. Always the new. A new challenge, a new friend, a new city, a new day, a new place to call home for a while. This is what keeps our souls alive. The new. The wandering.

I need to go. Go out into this beautiful world. Go out there and dance with the wind, sleep outside with the stars and the moon, rise and shine with the sun, sing with the birds, rest with the trees and live with the people. Oh, how I miss these beautiful people.

I cannot help myself. Cannot go back to a normal way of life. I am restless. I feel at home on the road.

I am wanderlust.


3 thoughts on “Wanderlust

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