Just like my love for souls, there is my love for departure. Just as much as I love arriving somewhere I love leaving it again. It is something inside of me. Something rooted in my corps, and it will spread the older I get. I used to think: settle down, come down and get used to things, just so that I don’t miss a lot. But it got even worse. I missed the unknown even more, and it nearly killed me, and everyone around me. The freaky part is that, it gets worse from year to year and I am bonded to my own vulnerability. It gets dark outside, and all I can think about is slipping into the day.