You go to a five stages,three day camping festival event and you come back feeling like you were on a euphoric emotional high two of the three days and you understand that it’s been 5 years since you’ve been around that many English speaking people at once and that it is your first time you have ever even experienced bands and people and closeness the way that you did.
You see the tents come down and the piles of garbage bags and the dust from the cars driving out.
You arrive home and you play a song from the CD you bought of one of the bands you saw-one of the members of that band you went to public school with and whose mother taught you in grade 6.
And you cry.
It’s not a drop of the system. It’s not happy slid into a hole of sad. It’s an overwhelming mixture of memories and time and realization. That you just experienced all that. And the photos run your heart wild and before you fully understand,you’re craving to do more of things like this.
You can have lived on the other side of the world for years, visited multiple countries and drove through 90% of the states in America; but when your travel bug has gone mute, it is mere evidence that something will take it’s place.
Maybe you won’t figure what’s supposed to fill it up right away. But something will.
It might click when you’re dancing in a great furious next to a girl that you met 12 hours ago, or when you’re in a group of 7, having lost the three people you knew. It might click when you get home and your heart yearns to do it all over again.
To start an addiction of something new, because of a space that held something old.
Oh, that is a marvelous life particle to have obtained!