Some who wander are lost
Though the irony that I became officially homeless this week isn't lost on me.
I’ve always felt lead, be it by God, my higher self. Even after becoming more honest about my crap, which still doesn’t stop me.
Call it a clairish kind of cogniscense perhaps, delusion if you have to, knowing that if I took the trip something were to be waiting for me at the other end. But there generally always has been.
On a spectrum of pure magic - people, opportunities and experiences that have added complexity and richness to a life of which if it had never left wouldn’t have had a chance in hell or staying at home of all this cool shit happening to it.
It’s not heroin, respectfully, I’ll remind myself or anyone who attempts to challenge me on my intrepidness really (though i am going to ask if magic and any kind of previous certainty of a destination to step aside for a minute) my God, I am lost.
I can no longer tell you where I’m going nor promise it’s all leading to something. If I’ll ever meet him, become a half decent partner myself, have a home of my own or finally make some money again. God, it reminds me - Dad never really heard the end of it.
Though as we know nothing is what it appears to be.. it takes a special kind of emptiness to appear this free, so no one need remind me of what the true cost has been which has rather nothing to do with anything fiscal or as I have mentioned before - spending an entire inheritance on Airbnb, I say as I cry in single at 38 and a half and homelessness essentially; despite never wanting the journey and having to go to sleep each night thinking what the hell is wrong with me. With nothing looking like how I imagined it to be - i have a feeling that I actually, maybe might still be living my dream, especially considering that all I ever wanted was freedom.
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On that note, i want to introduce my new publication. Where i’ll be directing all travel related writing. This is homesick.
Image taken in Rome by me.