Threatened

Any time I go to a new city, specifically one where I know friends there, I feel like I’m tresspassing on their lives.

"I’m Aubrey. I know [insert person here] from [insert place here.]"

What I’m actually saying is: "I’m an outsider. I don’t live here. I don’t know you, don’t know when you mistakenly kissed each other, don’t remember when your boyfriend puked on your roommates’ bed, don’t know all the things that make you connected."

I want to come right out and say it, but I never do.  I want them (she!) to know that I’m not a threat.

The guys don’t know how to deal with me; nor do the girls. I’m this anomaly in their current existance, who needs an explanation when the one they can give is often generic?

I’m a traveller. I’m not Walden, I will never gain fame nor fortune from it. But that’s me, that’s who I am. I travel, therefore, I am.

I’m sorry. I’ve got a life I don’t share with you; to be honest, one that you don’t need to know about. I love you for what, for who, you are; but please, know me. I’m not a threat.

And while you’re at it, please, please tell my guy, neither are you.

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