You’re forced to begin again every time you fall in love with freedom.

You know the feeling.

The moment things start flowing gently,

when the waters finally settle,

something inside you collapses under the weight of stability.

Self-sabotage.

And suddenly you’ll do anything

to throw yourself into another beautiful disaster.

Toxic love.

The provinces suffocate you.

The city devours you whole.

Wanderer.

Charlatan.

Trickster.

Convenient archetypes you inhabit and discard on repeat,

because that’s how you move through life –

and through the lives of others.