Emotional Roots

I started rereading old posts of my blog this morning, and what a surprise they were. I can’t begin to tell you how odd it is to take a look back—to glimpse a snapshot of myself in the not so distant past. Even though I’m still me, that old me seems like another me, like some shell of myself floating around in a vacuum of time, just waiting for the future to happen. On some level, it is gratifying to relive the experiences, to rise and fall on my own wave of progress, a quest that I embarked on but four years ago. Stranger still, I am starting to see patterns in my emotional wiring. It seems that about every year and a half, the routine that I establish for myself seems to get dry. Every time I get comfortable with my living space, I get depressed, I feel lost, I feel like moving on. This seems particularly salient to me, to notice this pattern, because I have been falling into this very rut in the past few weeks, feeling depressed, bored, and wishing that I was heading towards some new horizon, “really living”. It is odd to become conscious of this. Is this a vagary of youth, a psychological misfire? Do I have a gypsy’s soul? I don’t have the answer, nor the justification to keep on running.