Here's the thing about wanderlust, some people are just built to be in motion. We're the nomads, most at home when we're wandering. We're turned on by the newness of it all, even another soulless airplane for the millionth time. We step out the front door to finally feel like ourselves. Untethered. Insatiable.
We feel like creators when we're in motion. Nothing is sexier than the creative energy of a true traveler on the road. It's inspiring, orgasmic, primal. That creative energy is the lust, you see, in the wandering. We're obsessed with creating new ideas, the conquest of new sights and smells and tastes for our memory to flirt with, the alchemy of new identities, realities even.
If you're a nomad, you know it in your bones, feel it in your cells. Stagnation terrifies you. The idea of one house in one burb for the rest of your one life makes your palms sweat and your soul ache.
Keep lusting, lovers. Tell "supposed to" to fuck off. You know what you need. Keep wandering.