Is everything weâve ever been told a lie? I mean, we grow up and get jobs so we can have the things that we want. We become a slave to those things working hard to pay them off, only to replace those things with other things in the endless pursuit to acquire more. We move through the accepted phases of our lives, chose a career and hope itâs the right one and even if itâs not, most will stay out of fear of trying something different. We settle down with our one true love, or at least thatâs what weâll say, and if weâre lucky we will have some moments in the sun. But I watch the world and I watch people and the thing is, even when they achieve all of those things, they still donât appear to be happy. Itâs as if happiness is something different and maybe we only find that out once weâre so far down the road that there is no coming back; And maybe you wouldnât want to even if you could, but these last few years I find myself looking far off for something else as if looking back with regret from life I havenât lived yet.
Sometimes I long for the life of a nomad, whimsical and rootless, free of the never ending lists of mundane tasks and responsibilities that seem to bind us all. All the while we chisel away and push and stumble towards the end of days, telling ourselves itâs all for something, so that one day we can be happy, and in the end, nothing turns out as you planned. âI want to be a nomad!â She declared to herself aloud in the safety of solitude knowing the walls could never scoff at her the way the world always has.
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gummygunk
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