if i went missing, don't bother thinking where i've gone to, making assumptions whom i ran with, recalling what i've done for the past days and what could be the possible reasons of this little commotion i made, ringing people's phones you think i hang out with often and asking them if they hold any information that could help finding me or at least the cause why.
if 24 hours had gone by, don't come to the police station and report my disappearance nor paste my pictures on walls around the streets and giving it away, desperate to hear a word about or from me.
you could try to put yourselves in my shoe and think like what you have known me and continue running and chasing after prints i left you couldn't see.
be devastated and tired when months have passed and i'm still not coming back. conclude there's no more air circulating my body.
stop and i seriously won't mind.
for when i decided to walk away, i hope the thought of me standing on the doorstep and sending a message to people i know would be far from happening were included in your list primary.
maybe i just want to be lost and never be found. never be seen, heard, touched.
i could have drove myself to a vacation far from the place i've grew up. or maybe, i'm also in the journey of finding something. the only difference that it makes is, mine was unknown.
and who could correctly guess what it would be like for every hungry, never contented soul.
if i went missing and 24 hours had gone by, try to wear my shoes—be devastated, tired until your mind just give up on you, too. walk away, too lost to even actually have time to find my senses back from the soil that fed me. who could guess what really went nowhere.
xv. feeling of home
