Found:
Campsite. It'll do for the night.
So, here I am again, back out on the road. I have missed this; the solitude, the sense of aimlessness. I don't know where I'm going, not exactly, but I know there'll be something new to discover when I get there. That alone makes my blood rush through my veins.
If I recall those maps correctly, then somewhere west of my current position there should be a nice big ruin to poke around in. I expect that will do me some good. Right now I'm not too far away from the habitual campsite of... uhh... whatsisface. That man. I really should try to get his name one day. I wonder if I should pay him a visit on my way past? Maybe a palette cleanser is just what I need. Anything to forget, just for a few moments, what has happened so recently.
I knew it. Of course, I knew. Rule number one; Don't get attached. Hasn't that always been my mantra? And I hadn't. I wouldn't let myself. Not until...
Not until he came to me with such sweet words of hearts and possibilities, asking me to stay. How foolish could I possibly be? Very, apparently. I put my faith in him. I gave him my trust. I let myself care and for one bright shining moment, I thought I'd found something.
All those years I'd spent surrounded by people who hated me. All those years I'd wanted nothing more than a little affection. All the years afterwards I'd spent alone. I ended up in the arms of a nice man, installed in a cozy little house with the promise of what I'd always wanted as a child, but gave up on trying to have.
Sure, it was really boring. I whiled away my hours in his tavern or watching the world go by, but there was something that kept me there all the same. There was warmth and laughter and light. There was affection and the vague possibility of something more meaningful than I have yet known. I could have found a hobby or even continued traveling with promise of something - someone - to return to. But here I am now, cast adrift, turning my back on the light in the window.
It's not all bad though, right? The stars shine above me, the ground below me is hard and the wind that tears at my tent is cold, but I slip back into this way of life so easily. There is something new to be found over the horizon and it beckons to me even as the spectre of my battered heart pushes me away from where I lay only yesterday.
I'll return when I've had time to think.
Should I?
