My utter defeat and lack of drive for school is slowly killing me in spirit. I wonder as I am looking around all I see are people who are hard workers and will go on to great things while I waste away. I am a pathetic excuse of a student and am wasting my time, my peers time and my professors time. I’m sorry.

I’m just too afraid to not have a degree so I choose to torture myself instead.

I’m so sorry. This is against my life goals of not having to apologize. Yet here I am breaking that by putting myself in the idiotic situation all by a lack of drive. I hate this situation, I hate this part of me. I don’t know how I’m going to be able to survive and support myself. I just want to go into the woods and fall asleep and not wake up.

I’m down to contribute!

That would be awesome too! Maybe I could make a separate blog for this and add a few people who want to add to it, or allow submissions?

definitelydope:

(by razorbern)

(via s3mant1cs)

elenamorelli:

{ as if from a distance }

(Source: nerdreamer, via westernbullet)

barefaced-expressionism:

The ever changing energy of wanderlust takes place when you make a decision to do something unplanned and a funny thing happens. 

Your body reacquaints itself with its natural compass. You find, in a sudden moment of spontaneous surrender, that more times than not it requires one of four different drugs; all dependent on internal triggers, even if those triggers only lead you down an empty highway guided by taillights. 

In the midst of my wandering excursions, I’ve come to believe that our bodies react to the world as the moon does the sea. Possessing almost a magnetic pull to certain elements, which when deprived, call out to us from within. And I’ve come to find that there are four places one can run to, which, in the presence of each set of surroundings, relieve us from the weight we build like decay upon our shoulders and our hearts.

Because when we are running away we are surrendering to our bodies, allowing our core to lead, without planning, where it essentially needs to be.

I am a runner. I will most likely always be a runner. You will find me on the road whenever I am able to be and often times when I know better and cannot afford to be. And although I am drawn like an addict by countless paths, of which little exposure is evident to the final destination during the departure, these are my most rewarding drugs: 

The coast. Our hearts know when it is to be led to the shore for subtle beating and surrender. Lord knows, and so does our spirit, that the ocean is often not nearly as kind as written by amorists and poets. We expose our shoulders, our insides, for the unforgiving rays of a scolding sun to beat upon them, even through clouds of grey. We let the waves break us down with force; into the salt, into jagged rocks, into the grit of the sand. We release our burdens to the tide and take ownership for our parts in them before the vastness of the horizon. It makes no difference whether we sit and stare into the deep wide blue, navigate nautical charts on a catamaran, comb miles of endless strands to find our identity in a broken shell, or dive from dangerous jetties. We leave tired, with sore soles, burnt faces, and matted locks. Tired and ready; to begin again. Because there is something in that tide that teaches us and it is in the work.

The mountains. Our bodies know when our internal compass is pulling us into the shade and around river bends that interweave themselves through mountain ranges. We are drawn here when we need escape and a sense of accomplishment, to overcome rocky footholds and emptiness. Here, we allow ourselves to become overwhelmed by a sense of natural energy. We refocus our sight like an expensive macro lens and time slows to uncover the earth’s treasures so that we are able to reevaluate our dependence on modern distractions. It makes no difference whether we stroll down an already leveled path, take our chances on a class five rapid, cast our lines near the campsite, or cut our fingertips scaling a face. We depart from the wild with the kind of aching that is stimulating to our senses, reviving our internal strength and it is in the walk, whether miles deep or barely brushed along the surface, it is in the walk.

The city. And so it is, that our minds also know when we need to be stimulated by the hustle and flow. To get lost among a crayola explosion of faces, strides, personality. To search up the linear lines of skyscrapers and have our gait interrupted by individual interpretations of art and soul. When our senses need to respond to consistent movement and change in a very short pocket of time and space. In between the intersections we tap into our fears; we are thrilled, we are focused. From what we see, what we smell, what we hear, what we feel brewing deep within us. That push of adrenaline that taps into our potential. On busy city streets our mind unfolds what it wants for itself. Collecting ideas from all the bodies we pass, each and every storefront window. From business suits and chalk drawn landscapes. It makes no difference whether we take in the majority of the morning from the seat in a corner cafe, become victim to materialism, interact with countless strangers, or take it all in silently. We drive away with new limits, what we can put up with, what we will not. We shed the victim within us for an invincible sense of being. We return strong and it is in the energy.

And lastly, the elements. It is in the weather and the changing patterns of the world we live in. Our skin knows it was given an earth with revolving seasons, of fierce elements. And our veins need the connection to all of them. It doesn’t matter where you were raised, there is a constant thirst for diversified exposure; the heat of summer, the briskness of autumn, the chill of winter, the tease of spring. And when isolated in one for too awful long your body starves for another and we are compelled to oblige. The seasons nourish our souls and so we must run towards them when in need. It makes no difference if we are rushing south to catch the sun or forging north to speed down white slopes. We leave one element to find another, to secure the senses, experience different cuisine defined by them, embrace different lifestyles adapted by them, refresh our perspectives. We return experienced and it is in the connection.

And there you have my fixes of choice, a safety guide of direction if you will, to count on when the overwhelming desire to run comes. 

But you don’t need it. You don’t need any of the words you just read.

Because here’s the thing; even though many do not respond to running triggers as I do, you are already traveling. As your eyes absorb the words you are moving forward, your weight among wings. Curiosity is alive and well, and perhaps the initial energy that pushes your eyes forward now. So, with or without a guide, even if you never surrender to following taillights in a moment of spontaneous need, you are still traveling. We are always, always traveling. 

Always. Because at the end of the day it’s in the glorious way we were created~

— garrielynn