I explained a bit of my wanderlust in the last entry. I explained how it torments me, twists my insides and makes me throw up desire. It's that monkey on your back that knocks on your head and picks at your hair and won't ever leave you alone. It consumes you and abuses you and rattles your bones, demanding that you quell it's need for exploration. It drives you nuts.
And when you're in a relationship, all you ever want to do is share that excitement and passion with them and hope that they'd want to come with you wherever you might go.
I discovered the hard way that not everyone is like me, even the boy that I want to give my life to.
It kind of hurts.