I could travel 100000 miles spanning all continents meeting countless people and encountering numerous obstacles and happenings but I'd ultimately still be stuck with myself.
Maybe that's why the wanderlust wore off.
You cant run from yourself, but merely distract yourself.
Sitting feels like dying but traveling feels like futility to reach a destination of which you never arrive.
But i keep searching nonetheless. Maybe the trick is killing yourself.
metaphorically of course. Complete detachment, dissolving into space like a
Low murmur

liquefied time and the absense of material location.

I'll still be there.

I'll still be here