Wanderlust

I sometimes envy the birds in the sky. They can go wherever they want, whenever they want. I am like a tree instead. Planted in the soil of the town I was born into but did not choose. I pray everyday for someone to cut my roots so that I may become a bird and fly away into the beautiful unknown. I am bored. I am bored of standing in this same place looking at the same things every single day.

Trees reach a point in their life when they stop growing and they begin to die. If no one is going to cut my roots for me, then I must set my own self free or I will surely become a dying tree who is no longer growing. So I will take the knife and cut myself free from the roots that have for so long kept me captive. Instead of growing roots, I will grow my wings and jump out into the world that I have always wished to explore. Maybe someday I will want to grow roots again if I found the right place. But as for now nothing can hold me down.