On Travelling

I think I'm finally realizing why it's so important for me to travel. I'm starting to grasp it softly. It's like a wind that blows sparingly. Not seeing it, hardly feeling it, but knowing it's there, somehow.

It came to me suddenly. As someone was trying to discourage me from going alone at all costs, how dangerous it would be; I would be better off playing it safe, going with a group, or not going at all- I had my own thoughts. Why are people so afraid of tragedy? Why are people so afraid to die?

I have my own thoughts.

I would rather take the biggest risk I possibly can, than stay stagnant, waiting for more-

Waiting for more life.

I need to see people, I need to see life. I don't think I have the ability to let life happen to me. I don't think I have been blessed with a life that just is. I need to watch life, to sit on the outside, to learn, to grow-

To never be satisfied with anything. To always keep moving, keep traveling, keep running.

This life is not ours. This life is not mine. The things we have are a gift that can be taken away just as quickly. We do not know what our gift will be tomorrow.

I have to keep moving.

That life is not for me to have. One that marries her best friend, buys her first house with a garden, retires and lives her life peacefully-

Safely.

No I cannot live safely. I must risk it all. It is all worth the risk.

Life is the risk.