We invoke wanderlust in such a limiting capacity. I have wanderlust for the girl I used to be. Wanderlust for the love I used to have. Wanderlust for the simplicity and ease I took for granted. Such desperate yearning for places I have long passed and will never again inhabit. Perhaps wanderlust need not pertain to a place, maybe it’s a longing for anywhere we simply cannot be. In love, in the past, in ease. I have wanderlust for all the places I have tread and was never fully captivated by.

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