Living Out of a Suitcase

Imagine leaving. Leaving home. With a suitcase clutched firmly in your hands.

The only cords you have attaching you to everything you feel comfortable with fit into a convenient box you haul around. Your past life has become quite personified into a three-dimensional shape. It’s frightening to hold everything that you’ve ever felt comfortable with in your hands. And yet it’s freeing as well. For then you have the ability to simply let go and let it all trickle through your fingers into the unknown.

Forcing your mental cage into something that you can see and touch makes you realize just how big the world is and how many people are living in it. The freedom that living out of a suitcase brings is hard to describe. It enhances an attitude of indifference towards the daily decisions of life and yet packs a pungent punch of reality in it’s cloth compartments.

Packing a suitcase is sometimes like packing your worries away; knowing that you will unfold all of these troubles later as you fold up your shirts is a way to remain sane in this confusing world.

The ability to zip up the tangible representation of your home and comfortable life and leave it zipped up somewhere where it won’t follow you around is extremely refreshing.

It makes you feel alone in the world, but it allows you to open up your view of what the world actually is.

Living out of a suitcase is practical, forces one to prioritize, and frees one from cluttering thoughts.

It bequeaths one with a feeling of invincibility and an eager excitement for the world ahead.

It forges a path of new experiences, friendships, and thoughts.

Living this way shifts the focus off of oneself and onto others. It changes the view from possessions to experiences. From things to memories. From your own house to new places.

Living out of a suitcase makes you realize that we’re all in the same boat. We’re all actually lost and don’t have complete control over our lives.

We’re all trying.

We’re all breathing.

We’re all living out of a suitcase.

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Maybe Even Tomorrow

I wish I could sail through the cotton candy clouds. To faraway places I would take myself. Into the deep scarlet and soft orange hues of the fading sunset. To where God put the clouds in disarray, tapering into wisps without any cares in the world.

My heart longs to feel the exotic burst of energy that comes only with adventure and traveling the world. If only I could bound into the sea green shadows of the forested hills. Only then could I feel fresh and new; able to grasp fully the size of the world and it’s problems.

If only I could be her, traveling with pungent levels of innocence. If only the world and it’s adventures were as easy thought through as that. I just want to go. Not to the cold air, but to the warm embracing winter sun. To the peacefully content silhouette outside of my window. I want to travel and forget about everything. I want to go places, see things that I’ve never seen before rather than stay inside all of my life. But I want it to be fun. If it’s not fun, what’s the point of going?

I want to go to the Northern Islands. I want to be there, to absorb all of it into my soul, to impress it’s mark upon my chest, and to integrate myself with it’s flame and passion. Why not now? I’m not ready. That’s why. But I will someday. Maybe even tomorrow.