Adventure always requires running away from, or to, something; adventure can’t be sifted from loss.

I just quoted myself there. I can’t decide whether or not it’s as embarrassing to quote yourself as it is to retweet yourself, but I realized I don’t care that much at the moment.

I dream of adventure. I watch for it, carefully, and cautiously–a method that typically does not invite adventure, but I watch that way regardless because it is my nature and because it is what I have learned, both. I know very well what it is like being the one who covers the waterfront while a ship takes my own adventure away across the sea. This has undoubtedly been my own fault, a situation I constructed through caution, and through silences, and I have accepted it as my own fault and have been silent on it, accordingly.

I can take being the reason for my own unhappiness. I can’t bear the thought of being the architect of the ship which takes away another woman’s dream of adventure. Adventures always have a price. It is a terrible thing to exact it from another person. My heart remembers the price it has paid; how could I be so careless as to cost someone else the same? How do you weigh that against what you stand to lose by refusing to leave the shore?

How much more than enough for both of us


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