I have a gypsy streak in my blood. I’m happiest between jobs and couch surfing. It’s not stable, and I think that’s why I like it. Stability kind of freaks me out after a while. I don’t think I’d recognize a stable household if it went up to me, bit me in the ass, and caused me to get stitches. My friends have learned to adjust. We know that goodbye never really means goodbye. Eventually the winds of change will bring me back to them. Some people grow tired of waiting. I have a level of remorse for those who didn’t have it in them to wait for me to come back. I’ll miss them. But it’s for the best because they were friends with that younger version of me with neon hair and mismatched clothing, her life stuffed in a back pack and a sketchbook. Not the me now. I wonder if anybody from my old lives would recognize me without the multicolored hair and the teenage angst that used to fuel me on a constant basis.
Just as a warning, all that teenage angst really did more harm than good. It didn’t make me edgy. It made me whiny. And really, nobody wants to deal with the 3am suicide phone calls. My apologies to everybody I’ve done that to.
I sit here in the mid-west pretty far from home but close to my roots (if that makes any sense) anxiously waiting for this baby to come out so I can hand him to his new family (which means I’m doing adoption. My lifestyle is none for a baby.) and start gathering the funds for the war machine (which would be a vehicle) supplies, and possibly a road map or two. I don’t want to be stagnant or boring. I’m not built for that. I want to taste the breeze of what this world has to offer before we run it so far in to the ground that we destroy it. I’m not satisfied with a routine. Can you tell me that you are?
And every once in a while, I come across you. You’ve been in my life for years. You always knew something I didn’t. You always knew I’d come running back eventually. You never really cared where I came from. You loved the stories of my travels. You were always more of an anchor. I would probably laugh if you ever got an anchor tattoo someday. I can understand why those I was with at one point or another were so angry at our friendship. No matter what, I always ran to you and leaped in the air as I hugged you. You were there after the break ups and the in between. You were there when shit hit the fan almost every single time. I’m sorry I called your phone all those times at 2am crying about how I was so sure my world was ending. You always saw right through me, and I always loved you for it, best friend. I don’t doubt that one day you’ll come across this and know exactly what I’m talking about. You never wanted to fix me. You loved the twist in me. You loved that I always came back withs stories and gifts from the new world. I still think I take you for granted. You always had the skill to breathe me in while you had the chance. I’ll always love you, best friend. I’m long over due for a chai and some conversation.