Still here, but not for long.

I have know the taste of salt water,
and the smell of decaying forests,
and the cracks in hundreds of sidewalks.

I have loved the gas pedal,
and the airport concourse,
and the ever changing time zones.

in all of these places,
i thought i could find a home in not having one;
I have chased the sun across the sky so many times,
not yet ready to admit,
you never catch up.

(found on the internet with no name, and no, i didn't google)

How true. This is my fifth country I am permanently living in. Eighth if I count the month long working stumps. I guess I could, I managed to form routines during those times too.
Ever since I turned 19 I have not stopped and my suitcase has been packed and unpacked over and over again.
I'm scared of standing still. I don't know where I could just stop.
I managed to study in a program that allowed me to always leave everything behind. Promptly every four months a new scenery would open from my window.
I only had one suitcase. It felt good to get rid of all the old things in the end of my stay.

In three months I'm leaving again. Returning to somewhere so familiar.
I just hope I don't freak out.

There's always that part of me that longs a new adventure and seeks for the endless new possibilities, instead of taking the easy route. I've gained so much from taking these risks and making life a bit more difficult for me. It's been worth it.