Traveling Heals Me 

It works more like painkillers. And sometimes it doesn’t work the way I would like it to. 

But as my heart breaks many times over, the sight of a foreign land, the buzz of foreign language I barely understand, and the odd pace I have to keep up with in order to survive – they take away the pain. 

In the midst of all the voices going around, all the happenings, I focus on me. 

On finding me. 

Because in a place so different from home, there’s only one person I can fully rely on while traveling: me. 

And obviously the friend I go with. 

But it’s not the finding myself so intensely that I write songs about type of deal, but more of a constant self seeking. 

I have to find my voice, one I recognize more than anyone else’s, and hold onto it. 

And it’s quick pace, like flashes of moments which force one to get a good hold of her or his mind. 

Then these flying moments, along with the quick decision making, numb the throbbing heart. 

For what seems to be an eternity, I could forget how badly I’ve been hurting.

And it’s a wonderful realization. 

That the pain can indeed go away. Even if it’s just for a second. 

So I come back with thirst for more. More of the painkillers that I have tried and grown amazed of. 

I want more of that. Of finding my own voice. Hearing my own needs.

Putting myself first. 

My safety. My comfort. 

I know it’s not a permanent escape. Pain doesn’t go away the way we want to. Traveling doesn’t heal. It just numbs me for a little while. 

But it gives me the sweetest time in this dark age.

Life goes on. Life will return and routine as well. 

However, a good break doesn’t hurt anyone. 

Then I probably will pack my bag and fly to a different place, a beautiful strange love affair with a different country. 

And just like that, the pain slips away. 

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