on missing you

Dear Open Road,

I miss you. I crave you like I crave coffee in the morning. In fact, I may crave you infinately more than that.

I think of you and I smile, as if you were a lover that I had and lost. I miss your beauty and the faces you would bring to my life. I miss traveling without an agenda and every day something and someplace new. I miss feeling like my life was a love affair with myself, finding and discovering a new layers every day... like I was an onion. Or something else with layers. I miss having no money and feeling more rich and full then I have in my life.

I think you are more important than school, and than settling down in Moscow, or than living what most people would call a life of normalcy. I think I could fall asleep on the streets of this world and be happier than anyone with a fancy car and 9 to 5 job. I think people that judge me for thinking that just don't understand and haven't met you yet. They should meet you. I think you would get along with them great. Well, not all of them... it takes a mindset I suppose.

I am planning to see you again, just so you know.

As soon as I can line up my ducks in a semi-straight row, pay off some of my urgent debt, get my license back, and convince my family that I'm not crazy (well, I wouldn't hold my breath for that one), I am setting out to find you. I will sell all my belongings that just end up owning me, I will say goodbye to the friends I love, I will quit my meaningless job, I will declare myself a nomad and kiss your sweet face.

I look around my apartment at everything I own, and I don't want it anymore. An unpacked backpack lingers in the corner of my room and all I want to do is throw it on and go out to meet the world. But I will wait a few months. I will pay my bills. I will be responsible about this whole nomadic thing. Get ready, though.

Because I have one life. One. I have one shot, and that's it. I want to know that if I died tomorrow, I lived for what was most important. Not some stupid materialistic dream, not the accumulation of worldly stuff, not a piece of paper that tells me I can make it on my own. Not those things.

I can't wait to see you again, and I will miss you every moment til I get there.
-Day