Scatterbrainy

You might say that I wasted my time.
Moving from city, to city,
From country to country,
Looking for the right place, for myself and for you.

All the streets I've worn out with my restless walks,
With my dreams of other places, another world, of everything.
Will I remember them all?
Will they remember the feel of the soles of my shoes?
The sound of my anxiety? My faraway gaze?

Few places make me nostalgic.
I never allowed myself to get attached, I was passing through.
A passenger is never weighed down with responsibility for anyone but herself.

A passenger can leave if she gets hurt.

As a passenger, I never relied on anyone.

But as this next transition comes closer, I wonder if I have made the right choices in the past.
Suddenly I yearn for an anchor, I want to be pulled down.
It is time to reconnect, break down the walls and be vulnerable.

New streets await my wear,
but this time my steps won't be heading somewhere else.
My feet will conquer Brussels as their own.
And so will I.