The Desire to Live in The Beginning

Ever since I was a boy, I have had the dream to leave my seclusion in search for life. To leave home with a few things in my back pocket and a few things on my back. All my essentials would be at hand as a travel through the vast openness of the world around me. Going out to seize the world in the palm of my hand, seeing images that were once only pure pictures in my mind, to fill my head with my only dream of desire that would make me happy.
My description above seems like something straight from Kerouac’s On the Road and while that may be evident at first, it is not where I had grown this desire to travel. As mentioned earlier, I was always an explorer of the mind. The imagery so rich, so beautiful that I can practically taste the cold October Boston breeze on my lips or hear the sounds of the waves off of California drown my ears. I grew sick and tired of this world that only lived through my mind that I wanted nothing more in the world then to see it.
There seems to be an argument opposing the wish fullness of exploration. Arguments of Romanticism, impracticality or any other negative association.
What is wrong with seeing the world? Or should I rephrase, what is wrong with taking a gamble on life? Across my travels I may get killed or stuck in the wilderness far from home, thus becoming homeless but, there is nothing different as an intruder coming into your home and killing you or the government taking away your home.
I am not saying that everyone needs to leave the comfort of their lives, but rather you live your life, why shouldn’t I live mine? I am not stopping you from living your life so why shall my life be heavily disgraced?
Are my life ambitions no less important? Surely, my ambition is not some foreign language that cannot be digested by the majority.

Last updated November 28, 2021