All I have ever wanted to do is see the world.
To live life, always going one hundred miles per hour. Never stopping to get caught up in all the bullshit that accumulates within our lives.
The other day someone said to me, “I think that’s everyone’s goal. To travel the world. To forget their responsibilities. To live the fairy tale that was shoved down their throat as a kid.”
I don’t disagree. I look at people who travel all over the world. Some are happy and carefree, they have this air to a lack of responsibility. You think Gosh I wish I was them.
Whereas if you know a few travelers some are so enamored by their “occupation” that they compel this almost sort of arrogance. But some, they are repulsed. They don’t see going to other places an exhilarating experience. It’s like traveling is a festering sore to them. Each time they go, that sore is expected to pop.
Every person is different. Some are the born traveler and some are not. Everyone has a different view and that’s okay.
I have wanted to be a traveler because like in my writing, exploring a new place is like magic. You never forget the first time you go to a new place. It’s not the same a second time.
I think that is what being a traveler is, feeling the thrill in exploration, like the thrill of imagination.
My mind is spontaneous, and I have always wanted traveling to be that way. Maybe it’s time I get out of the house. Run to the mountains or something.