I am always happiest when exploring, traveling, driving away. Away from home. Unknown destinations never frighten me, rather they excite me. An energy awakens from somewhere deep inside me and it thrums along my body; sometimes it gives me butterflies in my stomach. I want to go further, I want to stay longer, I want to meet more people, I want to see more. I never want the adventure to end.
It started when I was a young girl. I would walk or ride my bike as far in the neighborhood as I dared. There was a large desert with canyons that I would wander through, always imagining setting up a tent and staying there. When I got my license, my best friend and I would drive all over the city and explore abandoned buildings or stargaze on our hoods while parked somewhere in the middle of nowhere. When I was a little older I started driving to LA. I loved the tall buildings and all the noise and commotion. I would go to clubs and bars I had never heard of. I met bums on the street and chatted with them. I imagined living in a cheap apartment, decorating it cute, and walking to work because it was too crowded to drive. I got even older and started dating people out of town; Palm Springs and Huntington Beach were memorable places. The beach is filled with happy people. People wearing swimsuits all day, surfing, skateboarding, walking their dogs, not seeming to have any cares in the world. It always thrills me to leave my city and stay in another one.
Yet here I am, STILL in my city. Still no clue what to do with my life. I have a gypsy soul but it seems caged and unable to fly.