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The Vanished Vagabond

I spent much of my younger years as a vagabond, it is the life to which my very soul was drawn. While not looking. I found someone. That person claimed a desire to move with me. However, over time it was apparent she did not share my wanderlust. Sadly, I had become accustomed to a life of predictable stability. I wasn’t settled, I had settled.

Eventually my spirit forced me to flee. I had “the conversation.” She was unwilling to explore. I left. I was free to soar.

Yet, stability had done its damage. There was something compelling me to return. Was the free spirit of youth not the correct path? Was it not the real me? Or, was I simply used to being chained? Did a form of Stockholm Syndrome become my perceived reality?

I am not sure if it was the holidays or something else, but I allowed fear and loneliness, which had morphed into near crippling anxiety, cause me to reject that which was my true self. I traveled the more than one thousand miles and voluntarily returned to the cage. I thought I wanted to be anchored. Now, my decision has left me not grounded, but shackled.

I think, perhaps it is important to find someone who desires the same. Although, either way, the key is to be faithful to our true self – and never make apologies.

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