on your wings.

"Turning and turning in the widening gyre
The falcon cannot hear the falconer;
Things fall apart; the centre cannot hold..."

-William Butler Yeats

This, exactly, is what I hate to accept. I refuse to embrace the idea that everything I know and own, one day, will not be mine. Friends, family, and memories will all eventually turn into nothingness. That is what I hate to realize. I can't stand that people I call my best friends and I now barely talk. It's not so much individual situations, but the principle of the idea that I hate. I don't want to admit to leaving a friend one day. Maybe, there's solace hidden somewhere in the constant moving. 

All of this, though, doesn't meet with the rest of me. I just have a wandering personality. I want to travel and hike all over the place. I want to live somewhere different, but I don't want to leave things I love behind. 

Or maybe it's the fact that it's 5 a.m. and I haven't slept yet. He's going crazy.