Sunday, March 25, 2012
A Fine Tooth Comb
It was then that i realized that it is coming again, that itch. The one that makes me daydream too much, that itch that seems to constantly be on the move, urging me forward while my good sense keeps me back. I can't yet say what, when, or how but my time here seems to be running on exhaust. The pit in my stomach seems to drop a quarter of an inch every time I look at the the photos of my friends abroad, helping the poor, leaving on missions, learning languages, walking down unknown streets, with unknown people, consistently on the brink of something new. You know, I wish i was the type of person who was happy with where she was all the time, you know that girl who sees other people living life on the edge but stands resolute in her happiness for staying in the same town, with the same friends, and the same job. Yet I am not. I am the girl who craves adventure. The girl who always thinks about her good ole days and is convinced all good memories are made abroad. I am that girl who takes that broken fine tooth comb and shoves it in her ear.