When the roads become us

Come with me, le'ts look for the unknown together.

The world outside the window feels alive. The car hums beneath me, a steady rhythm that syncs with my wandering thoughts. The road stretches endlessly ahead, winding through open fields, distant hills, and scattered trees. The sun dips lower into the horizon, painting everything with hues of gold and amber.

There’s something hypnotic about this view, the way the road bends and stretches, as though it’s inviting me to follow it to places I’ve never been. It feels like the road isn’t just lying there; it’s walking alongside me, step for step, mile for mile. And as I stare out into the vastness, I realize: the roads are better than the destination.

Come, let’s get lost, I think to myself. Let’s lose track of where we’re going or why we’re even headed there. It doesn’t matter. The journey feels enough. The twists, the turns, the unexpected views, they feel like the kind of magic you only find when you’re not looking for it.

I glance at my reflection in the glass, the faint outline of my face blending with the scenery rushing past. My eyes feel heavy, not from sleep but from something deeper: this weight I’ve been carrying. There’s someone I can’t stop thinking about.

I keep telling myself that I can live without them, but the truth? It feels impossible. Their absence lingers in the air, clinging to me like the soft whispers of a forgotten song. Even now, as the road carries me farther away, a part of me stays rooted in that ache.

Beloved, if only you knew. If only you could see how the thought of walking these roads without you feels incomplete. But life has its own way of unraveling. I know I won’t be the one by your side when your path takes you somewhere new.

The car turns sharply, jolting me out of my thoughts. I blink and look outside again. The road is still there, unbothered by my emotions. It keeps going, stretching beyond what I can see, as if to remind me that I’m still moving forward, even when it feels like I’m standing still.

I roll down the window, letting the crisp air rush in. It smells like earth, like possibilities, like freedom. And in this moment, I realize that these roads don’t care where I’m going. They don’t care if I’m lost or uncertain. They’re just here, walking with me.

Maybe the destination doesn’t matter. Maybe it’s the act of moving, of trusting the journey, that’s the real story. Sitting still, waiting for answers, won’t take me anywhere. But stepping out, embracing the unknown–that’s where the magic happens.

As the sun finally dips below the horizon, the world outside turns into silhouettes and shadows. But the roads? They’re still there, waiting, inviting.

Come, let’s walk for miles. Let’s forget about where we’re going and just trust the path ahead. Because when we started walking, these roads started walking too. And maybe, just maybe, they’ll take us exactly where we need to be.