It’s a hard life, in a way. I’m on my own. I can’t rely on anyone missing me, waiting for me, coming to help me or alerting others to help. Often there’s no one who knows where I am.
But I’m used to it. Made myself accustomed. I try to harden myself in everything, all the time. I want to prove to myself and to others that I can survive anything and that I’m not afraid of danger; I barely consider it. It’s all down to attitude. You’re not unsafe if you don’t accept you are. If you accept it, you tie yourself to it so tight that it strangles you.
In principle, I’m never helpless. If I look as though I am, it’s calculated. No one knows what I really think, and what I am.
Sometimes I must be very tough on myself. I can’t turn back or quit. If I set a destination for nightfall, I don’t stop until I reach it, even if night and morning come before I’m there. If I would stop, I’d get cold and I wouldn’t want to start moving again. I would just like to stay still, put on more clothes and squeeze myself small and warm. That can’t happen. You must not get used to comfort, it can be destructive at times.
I’ve wanted to take this to the extreme. Many say that no one travels like this anymore, but first, that’s not true, and second, it wouldn’t be a reason to change even even if it were.
With thanks to my random roads guide, for a chance to roughen up & explore my limits.
