Wanderlust

I'm feeling it for the first time in years.
Is this really what's intended for me? Stay in a city till the good turns to bad, and then set sights on another impossible utopia.
I'm not well, I know I'm not well, but I think I'm worth more than wearing out my welcome for a lifetime.
It stings, but it isn't changeable.
I guess I have a quicksilver soul.
Either that or I'm unworthy of stability.
Everything changes, or ceases to change, and I will not rely on false surety. I can stand up and say 'I do not know. I may not be right.'
Time is so very short.
Too short for fear and yet I am drunk with it.
Time is so very short, and I can feel it stirring.