Familiar Destination

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“My location is neverending, wandering, fleeting, free.”

There are roads and streets upon which the best moments come to life, where the memories are made.

I’m honestly not one for travelling to a new place, and discovering and learning new things for myself; well, not yet at least. I don’t like the idea of walking uncharted land, and settling into new habits for a day or two, or a few hours, then going back to where ‘real life’ lives. It’s upsetting to know in the back of your head that the paradise infront of you will not last for as long as wanted. But, despite that, I love the mere act of hitting the road and going places. I had already decided that I want to proclaim that the pathways of the world is my home, and that I am theirs.

 

I’m an actual dork. I want to go to SO many places, but I am broke af, and knowing me, will be for the near future, so there goes Europe. I am a tropical child, though, and have always bees one, forever longing and yearning the sun even if I really fucking  sometimes hate it. The best part of not getting to venture unto the wild, and faraway, is that you can find comfort in the smallest of spaces and minutes.

Staying in the car, calling shotgun or backseat, or even driver and riding unto a familiar destination about two hours away (or more, COME ON this is Philippine traffic) is good therapy if you’re okay with secluded spaces and near proximity to human skin. Riding with your friends or family is good if you want to pray together about the heaviest troubles, or call dibs on who gets to be DJ for the quarter of the trip. This is good if you’re comfortable with eating anything, from overnight oatmeal to sunflower seeds to an original glazed donut from Krispy Kreme, in a moving little box. This is the best feeling if you find sanctuary listening to Beethoven or OneRepublic in your earphones in the dead of night, your head on your older sister’s shoulder, slowly falling asleep to the shit driving of your dad that you’ve grown so used to. This is the best thing if you haven’t found yourself yet, and still are searching the gravel streets with your eyes closed and your hopes up.

 

I can’t say I’ve been to a place that has stolen my heart clean off my chest, but I have to admit that the journey going there, wherever, has named itself sanctuary.

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