We don’t get to choose where we grow up. We don’t get to choose who raises us—if anyone does—or even how the process of raising us is done. We get sculpted and shaped by our environments, our families, our friends, our socio economic classes, and our educations. As I have grown older, I cannot seem to keep myself from wondering; does all of this shaping, cutting, molding, and building of who we are create some sort of allegiance to the geography we were born into by chance?

My family are my favorite human beings on this planet. My hometown and CNY hold my first kiss, my first steps, my first friend, my first goal…my first everything. So why is it that I don’t have some sort of undying allegiance to my stomping grounds?

I guess, for me, it never felt like home.

Just because we are born somewhere does not mean that we have to grow our roots there. Where we are born is not where we need to remain planted…right?

I am not someone that does well with staying in one place for long periods of time. When the seasons change, an unsettlement stirs within me and personifies itself in everything I do. I catch myself suddenly planning trips to see people or taking walks/hikes/weekend trips on my own.

The best way I can describe it is through dandelions. When I was born, I was planted. I grew and was shaped by the sun, rain, and the conditions that surrounded me. Then, one day, once I had grown older and the seasons had changed, the wind blew me away and I have been drifting in the wind ever since.

I daydream of watching sunsets from every corner of the planet. I am not afraid or intimidated by the unknown—it ignites an excitement within me that I cannot explain.

I have never been able to understand people not wanting to leave or explore. I have never understood the need to have a schedule or a planned future. These actions are not by any means wrong, they just do not come naturally to someone like me. I change my future everyday. I change what I want to do with my life almost as often—if not more so.

I feel like especially at my age—and the ages of most people who will read this—people get an overwhelming sense of anxiety that they aren’t living their lives right. There is this generational sense that everyone else has a plan and if we do not, we are somehow failing. Some people have plans, and that is fine, that is what works for them. For me, plans make me feel trapped.

I am not afraid of much, but I am afraid of getting stuck somewhere that I do not belong or could not be happy. For right now, I do not have a home. I have a home in a sense that I have a family and I have friends that I would do absolutely anything for…but in terms of a forever home, a physical place to go to, I have not found that yet.

For those of you who have a plan, I am happy for you—but I’m not done drifting yet.