wanderlust

An incurable case of wanderlust is not something I chose, just something that is.

I often wish it did not afflict me. But it does.
And that's the way it is.

Concepts such as home and roots elude me. Oh, the words exist, and I say tangibly that I'm from here or live there, but the concepts are as fragile and hollow as a child's soap bubble on the wind.

Good thing I rather like it that way, eh?