choose kind.

You always say that you don’t mean to. It’s never your intention to hurt me, yet you always do it. You hurt me when you don’t answer me. You tell me I’m your priority. I’m the most important thing in your life. That I’m your world but if I’m being honest, it never feels like it. You make me feel unwanted. You make me cry and doubt myself but yet I still stay with you. I stay with you because I love you but it’s obvious you no longer love me. It hurts but I need to let go of us because sadly, there isn’t an ‘us’ anymore.

Travel is little beds and cramped bathrooms. It’s old television sets and slow Internet connections. Travel is extraordinary conversations with ordinary people. It’s waiters, gas station attendants, and housekeepers becoming the most interesting people in the world. It’s churches that are compelling enough to enter. It’s McDonald’s being a luxury. It’s the realization that you may have been born in the wrong country. Travel is a smile that leads to a conversation in broken English. It’s the epiphany that pretty girls smile the same way all over the world. Travel is tipping 10% and being embraced for it. Travel is the same white T-shirt again tomorrow. Travel is accented sex after good wine and too many unfiltered cigarettes. Travel is flowing in the back of a bus with giggly strangers. It’s a street full of bearded backpackers looking down at maps. Travel is wishing for one more bite of whatever that just was. It’s the rediscovery of walking somewhere. It’s sharing a bottle of liquor on an overnight train with a new friend. Travel is “Maybe I don’t have to do it that way when I get back home.