Love is the Greatest Adventure.
Written in September 2020. Outfit worn on September 3rd, 2020.
I’ve been frustrated and extremely careful not to ask myself, “What do you want?” because the answer is always and immediately: “To go home to Cody.”
I remind myself of those things and my natural response to them is now: “Well, i guess that could maybe, possibly be nice…”
I’ve become largely uninterested in it all. Becuase i don’t have what i want most.
Things i forever thought i desired, existed for, needed in order to have a life worth living… They feel minuscule and uninspiring, lacking life and warmth.
I don’t get home sick…..
…Or, at least i didn’t.
This is a sickness i never could have imagined. A longing that devours all other longings.
It nauseates me, it makes me feel weak and lightheaded and unable to think straight. It hurts like nothing else.
And all it is is a desire for a return trip. Longing for an uncomfortable journey to be over.
Never once have i ever had these feelings about even the most grueling moments of an adventure.
I’ve always taken the worst as part of the beauty of the journey. I’ve always been left excited, relentless in pursuit of what’s around the bend. Forever unwilling to return to the mundane.
That no longer comes as easy. I long too restlessly for the comfort of his arms.
..To “go home to Cody”, though?… To a place that i logically know is not my home?
–but my heart keeps screaming that it is, that wherever he is, is home, and it won’t shut up.
I don’t really have a place to call home.
Next thing i know, i’ll finally be on the road…Genuinely without a permanent, traditional home.
That used to be an idea that would excite me and send wonderful chills down my spine…
“Alissa the nomad”.
For as long as i can remember i deeply believed that was my one and only possible destiny, the only thing that could ever make me feel whole. Reckless adventures. A life full of this elusive, so-called, “meaning”. Even a life that might end in a tragic, early death–*that* somehow comforted me most of all.
I’ve realized that dreaming of adventure was the main coping mechanism i clung to using because i didn’t feel safe. The idea of throwing myself into potential danger made me feel in control.
Now it’s begun to feel like my only choice. Something almost purely practical. I want to really want it again–I’m back to needing it for a (mostly false) sense of security–but it’s hard to step away from real security after you finally had it.
Knowing Cody brought me contentment for the first time in my life and an immense feeling of safety, stability, and comfort that i never knew was possible–or desirable. He made me want to stop running away. I felt at home for the first time.
To go back to running away feels foolish.
It feels equally foolish to hope, though. To act like i have any right to try. To act like anything can or should be repaired.
Even though our problems feel so small to me…
I have to accept and move forward.
…”What do you want, Alissa?”…… That’s the question with the answers that only make me feel dejected and afraid.
But it’s not healthy to have to avoid asking myself what i hope for out of life.
I’m working to rediscover all new things to be glad to live for. It’s harder than it ought to be. I had what i didn’t know i wanted most.
I know i am capable of finding happiness, though i don’t always believe it…I just wish i could still stand close beside the person with whom i felt the happiest i’ve ever felt in my life.
There’s nothing the world could offer that i could want more.
I already found happiness, and now i grieve it.
The only adventures i truly need are the beautifully simple day-to-day ones…
In my eyes, what we had was perfect.
Exploring the depths of your personality, your mind, your heart…That was a journey in and of itself. A road that never reached an end.
Cody, your love was my favorite adventure.