I sometimes wish I could just pack my stuff in my car and drive away. Leave everything behind. Just drive wherever I want to. Work in some stores or farms for a while. Drive on. Never stop. Never look behind.
Our lives get filled up with so much baggage. So much stuff over the time. We have bills to pay. People to care for. We have social networks to attend to. We have jobs to do...
It gets hard to remember sometimes why we do it. Why do we do the things we do. What is it for? What's life all about?
I try to tell myself that I would find out, if I just drove away and kept driving and never stopped till I have seen everything. Till I have found everything I was looking for.
I sometimes get the feeling of living in a cage. Of rules. Appointments. Classes. Things. People. And then I just want to break through the walls and go for it. But I never do...
I fill up my car with gas, get in, drive to work, and stay. And stay.
Emily Dickinson's last words:
I must go in, the fog is rising.