I can’t believe I left

I left my stomping grounds on a whim. Not to Europe or Brazil, Far enough to know no one and close enough to go home in a days time. 

I just signed a 14 month lease and I must say my fear of commitment is in overhaul right now. I’ve been here for 9 weeks trying to get my feet on the ground and I’m already planning my next step. There is a fault I am recognizing in this process. A fault a conversation with a ghostly friend has made me realize. 

“You are missing so much, not living in the present moment.” 

I will never be any younger than this moment right now yet I’m ready to give it all away like a child trading in their youth for heels and make up. It’s a mild struggle that’s been claiming most my thoughts lately. When a thought sticks to me like glue I must carry it with me till I figure out the solution. I must find the reason why my wanderlust has turned into overdrive when I haven’t even explored the new city I’m supposed to be calling home. 

The locals ask me where I’m from 

Through telling them different variations of the same story I realized I’ve never been from just one place nor have I claimed it. I always say a big city close to where I am from then direct them 30 minutes in the direction. I say I grew up here for awhile, moved here for business purposes, traveled here to see what it was like. Painting a picture in their minds that I’m just part of a band of gypsies. However that isn’t the case. 

My family is normal to a point. I just seem to be the rainbow colored black sheep. Black sheep being used as the creative child not a bad seed. My mother is a nurse while my father is a cop. My sister is a drill sergeant and my brother is a corrections officer. My parents are remarried to other partners who again have normal jobs.  I manage a restaurant and hoard every dollar I can to travel away somewhere for a new experience. All of the things I’ve acquired in my short life are in storage. The only things I stored that I truly care about is my record collection and my book collection. Everything else is just stuff. 

Just stuff…

I’d trade it all in for a pretty penny to see the world. To wake up in a new city everyday. To find a random shop on a boardwalk and get lost in oodles of conversations with the locals. I’ve done it many of times across the U.S. 

    My wanderlust fever kicked in  
                    April 28,2015      


I’ve always had gypsy blood in me but when I say fever I mean I dream about it. Think about it everyday. Write about it in my journal.Google map where I would go and what I would do. Search for random jobs to foot the bill. I am in love with Wanderlust.Most importantly  I picture what it would be like for me to live how I want every single day I have left on God’s green earth. I kissed my family goodbye knowing I was off to yet another temporary stepping stone that would eventually excel me further from them yet closer at the same time. I cherish the moments a million times more than I did before. Not an easy thing to admit. I said goodbye to all my friends knowing they would find someone else to walk beside them in their new lives without me while I escaped into the foothills of my own mind knowing the only person beside me would be God himself. I was fearless in this aspect. I loaded up my Kia and told Siri where to lead me as I blasted MGK Runnin’ as my anthem to cross the state line. I still can’t believe I left. When I go to visit everything seems ten times more beautiful than when I lived there. I compared the feelings to leaving my first or second home town where I graduated high school. Using those theories to feed my ego till the feeling was numb, telling myself (I’ve done this before it’s no big deal) but it was. I can say with pure honesty I am still trying to process this transition while focusing on the tasks I must get through in my new life. My new boss who knows I am a gypsy soul at heart. Me questioning myself why I am living such a normal life when I would be ecstatic to live in a van selling jewelry out of it to pay the gas bill. Questioning myself gets rough sometimes when I know in my bones this isn’t where I will stay. It is just temporary. Every bit of it. I hear a masculine voice breath deep and tell me to just live.live in the moments you are blessed with. 

Remember who you are…

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