“You can find love in many places, but you can only find certain kind of love with certain people.”
Yesterday, I was scrolling through my travel album and reflected about the people who have entered my life for a bit, shared a couple of memories together, perhaps some old photos stored in my hard drive when I need to rejog the moments, before we separated as strangers once again.
It’s sad, in fact, almost devastating that’s how we have become; so numb to relationships that we treat them as disposable. We form this notion that relationships we formed with people have become a series of expiry dates, and we feed ourselves the notion that we can’t afford to be attached too easily, so we guard our hearts from being broken.
Young independent travellers that I came across often possess a discerning charm that is undeniable. Their free-spirited personalities, combined with their charismatic allure, their seemingly over-worn outfits, their overgrown hair, and the baggage of stories they have to share. I see how the go-getter and do-er attitude that they have for their travels transcends into their daily lives. Their actions that echoes louder than words, their maturity despite their age that makes them exceptional communicators. Talking to them about deeper issues makes me inspired and forces me to deliberate over things I’ve never been able to talk about openly and confront stereotypes upfront, disregarding the fact that we have only met each other hours ago.
I remembered sitting on top of the kitchen counter exchanging life stories, that passionate kiss that took me by surprise as I stepped out of the door after escaping from a close encounter with a creepy host. I remembered him waiting outside the door in the dark for me while I packed my luggage. I remembered the goodbye kisses that you planted on my forehead before we separated in the morning.
I remembered your touch on my skin, and the gentle but strong motions that thrust into me. The times where we gathered around the couch and took turns smoking weed, letting the high kick in together with the palinkas. The secret make out session that we had on the couch. The times where I was at the back of the motorbike, taking in the adrenaline rush from the speed.
The comfortable silence we shared while we sipped on the wine. The slow walk into the deep ocean blues at night as we peel off our clothes, feeling uncertain about going commando but embracing the feeling of being entranced in the warmth of the water attuned to my skin. I soaked in that moment, letting go of my thoughts temporarily as I let the waves ride me, and you were by the shore waiting with a towel to wrap my shivering body.
It felt surreal to feel something so intense, so much, for someone who doesn’t feel so much. Times like these comes randomly but also gave me some form of consolation as I conclude my company with you. One destination, one more person that slowly warmed up my seemingly cold exterior. I leave a destination feeling a little more human than the previous destination.
Traveling cured my writer’s block. Meeting you fueled me with the perspectives that I have never thought of. My heart was bursting with emotions as I succumbed to the temporary security in your embrace, with you pulling me closer under the night lights. I breathed heavily, realizing how fast time seemed to pass and I had to leave again. I fall so quickly into the illusion of what temporary love seemed to be, and linger around a little longer before stepping on the bus to my next destination.
Maybe it will be easier this time after all the practices. “Catch flights, not feelings” I muttered under my breath as my bus departed.
Goodbye. Once again.