i don’t know how to call this feeling. there’re a lot of long beautiful words - drapetomania, wanderlust, but the truth is that this feeling never goes away. it’s my starting point where i always come back.
and, to be honest, three years ago i was certain that by the august of 2011 i will have been gone to a completely different and quite a certain place. but, apparantly, i’m still here where i am. and i have to wait. again. am i really doing anything but waiting?
i do, actually, but does it make any sense? will i ever be proud of myself?
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