My mind travels a thousand miles away, always wandering off to foreign lands, foreign sounds, and foreign destinations. I don’t follow my mind. I let it wander on its own, but it trips me up, it turns me upside down. I get upset, remember that once again my mind has taken a turn on its own, without taking me along.
The city feels the same sometimes. Sometimes, it is so grandeur, so grand and abstract, so bizarre, that I don’t see it. It sees me. It takes me. It follows me in my head and takes over me. I ponder, lost, sad, because I am confused. My mind travels a thousand miles away, the city takes over what is left, and there you have it, a lost soul.
I don’t know if I always felt like this, though I remember the boredom of not knowing what to do with what I desired to feel. I longed to feel something. I longed to feel like I was running with impossible speed, as fast as my mind travels now. I didn’t like comfort and the satisfaction of knowing I was safe under my parents’ roof. I wanted to feel adventure, danger, some kind of thrill.
It was scary just imagining the city taking me hostage. But I longed to be taken. And so it happened. I turned 21. I grew up a little and went for it and here I am, lost, my mind traveling thousands of miles away.
I am wondering (how dare I) about London. What is London like? And what about Japan? Another adventure. The possibilities, the lights, the…
It never ends, this thirst for more. And I’m afraid, it still leaves me sad, because I am never really where I presently am because my mind has already left me.