It’s like living with a pressure inside you. A pressure that builds over time until you finally grant it release…
The relentless pull of life on the move becomes somewhat unbearable.
That internal drive that doesn’t allow you to settle for more than a few weeks at a time.
Then it’s off chasing the next adventure.. The rest of your time spent thinking, dreaming of the moment
The limitless opportunity, the freedom, not only to do what you like, to go where you want to go, but to be whoever you want to be, it’s like a drug. And every bit as self-consuming..
Perhaps it’s the fear of missing out.. I’ve always been acutely aware of my own mortality, the limited time we are all granted. I guess it’s more so the fear of not making the most that time, of squandering it, wasting it..
We were all nomads at one time, wandering, drifting, searching.. we never settled. I think it’s a natural state of our being to explore, to seek adventure, something we’ve forgotten as the years have passed..
I hope that one day that pressure will die down and I’ll be able to live contentedly, something resembling a normal life. In the meantime all I can do is satisfy this restless soul, giving in to the pursuit of perpetual motion..