I’m counting down the days until I move. The decision was fairly sudden and not particularly well thought out, much like my decision to transition years ago. I have relatively little holding me in place here where I currently live and it will be nice to live in an area of the country that is more tolerant and accepting of transgender people. However, I’d be lying if I said that was anything but a secondary consideration for my impending move. No, my main motivation is to help curb the wanderlust that is always present and can never truly be satisfied. My legs are restless and my head needs a new home.
Wanderlust seems to be part of the psychopathic condition. The reasons vary, but one thing seems to be a constant: picking up and moving when the going is stagnant allows for a new environment to thrive in – a new environment to bleed dry. I have not outstayed my welcome in my current city, but, at the same time, it would be great to be surrounded by new faces that certainly have no idea of my past nor my inner thought processes. I look forward to starting fresh, away from those friends and acquaintances that know of my assessed psychopathy. I want to be a nothing-face in a new land where I can chart out a new persona and a new beginning.
A new location for my pillow has darker motives as well. When no one knows what you are, you can portray anyone that you wish. I want to hone my parasitic ways in a land unaccustomed to mosquitos. I suppose, in this regard, part of my wanderlust is not entirely dissimilar to the psychopath that has multiple marriages, bouncing from spouse to spouse and leaving them once the benefits are gone. I doubt that I will ever take up permanent residence in any area. Even areas that did not have wolves until I arrived will eventually grow to fear fanged creatures. Eventually my feet will call me to move once more.