I am slithering over the fences that bound me. I am scared to take the first step as I may land into a pit and then there’s no life saver around nor a way to return but I am determined, because where do I return if I want to? I’ve lived at a place full of people for so many years and yet it feels so foreign, so unknown, so unacquainted. I don’t belong here. I don’t know which place I’ll go to. I haven’t really decided on it. I don’t know what my destination is, but maybe I’m better off without having one. I don’t want to be a traveller in disguise, because I’ve been born into it and with the ability of hearing the call of the roads. I have no shame and I need no acceptance, nor do I need a baggage full of things, as my necessities have always been the woods, sky and the never ending trails in them, waiting for my footprints to be left on them. I won’t take with me, any food or water, because I was born to wander. I was born to live life in a way which people call ‘to survive’.
I was born to feel like home in places I’ve never visited.
Willfully Wondering Words 