Here I am again, after letting the bad days stack up. After letting my demons toss around in my head, messing me up a little more than usual.
I’ve come to notice a few things, but above all, the one instinct that kicks in every time things. The one which tells me to drop everything, and run. It hits me so much harder now that I have a motorcycle. I don’t necessarily have to go anywhere in particular, but the urge to just..go, hits hard. It could be due to a number of possible reasons.
I suppose it could be that being on the road, I am able to clear my head and just shift my focus to the distance ahead. I’d enjoy the wind, the night sky and everything else that comes with riding. I dug deeper, and it hit me that the reason why I feel like running away every things go bad, is that I never felt like I belonged anywhere. It was always a matter of ‘going’ and never ‘coming’. I have nowhere, or nobody, to go to, that I actually feel comfortable enough to be vulnerable in. Brace yourself, this is going to sound painfully emo. I’ve never felt like people wanted me around, and I can’t blame them. I tend to do things that rub people the wrong way, whether or not I intend to.
I can’t shake this feeling of always being misunderstood, and disliked because people think I am a certain way, when I’m not. I can’t help it. Certain conditions bring out different parts of me and they so often go their own ways. I can’t control them, and I’m tired of trying. I know that someday I’ll find a place where I truly belong. Where people would just..get me, without me having to try so hard. I’d have people who’d listen and talk with me freely, people who would relate and be able to just feel the way I feel. People who’d tell me that I am in a place where I belong, a place where I was always meant to go to, that all that running finally amounted to something, a final destination, if you will.
Someday. Until then, I’ll keep searching. I’ll keep running.