Keep moving, because the water shifts and the tides change, and it’s going to make you uncomfortable.
People will tell you you’re running away from situations, but you’re not. Even if you were, it would only be to trip and fall back into them, because no matter where you are, you can’t escape people: you can’t evade yourself, you can’t outrun the land mines and adrenaline rushes of human interactions.
You’ll learn that goodbyes are hard, but you don’t actually need anybody, not in the ‘can’t sleep, can’t breathe’ way you once believed. You’ll learn distance and time do smooth out the roughest of heartbreaks or humiliations. Some friendships will unravel – ones that you didn’t expect – but that also means you discover who was worth the postcard postage all along. Some nights will be long and everything that could go wrong and did go wrong will drown you in a nighttime flood. Dive headfirst into it – untangle the cords inside yourself until you’ve made an anchor. Make the same mistakes over and over and over again – you’ll leave some behind, eventually. You’ll make new ones, fresh ones that confuse you.
Among everything, though, the one thing that remains constant is you. It’s a scary thought, especially when you realize the mistakes that happen regardless of your current location. Your loose lips hurt people. You fear being alone, and it makes you needy. You are the common denominator, and when you transplant yourself, this realization will hit you again and again. Me? This clumsy, irresponsible brat is all that I’ve got? Oh god.
But you left knowing there were truths out there waiting for you, and this is one of them. Realizing that you are all you have will take you from fear to motivation. Because along the journey – whether it’s from Canada to Australia or birth to death – you will never leave your own side. As much as you’d like to walk away from your own shadow sometimes, it’s not an option. You will spend every waking, sleeping, breathing minute with the person in the mirror, and you should work to impress that reflection. Make it laugh. Show it the sights. Give it things to play with. Read it stories and grow its mind. Infuse it with music.
Keep changing scenery until the scenery itself doesn’t matter anymore, until you realize your home isn’t the Big Dipper in the sky or the running trail by the river. Keep moving until every footstep feels like home because you’re certain of each step, even when they’re taken all alone. Keep moving.