Come May, I hope I won’t be tried of this feeling. I’ll be writing so many blogs that it’ll be hard to keep them straight. I hope I don’t get sick of this pen gliding beneath my fingers or the terrifyingly addictive sense of adventure that currently drives my heart. In ten days I’ll be on a plane headed on the biggest, most adult adventure I have ever decided was going to happen, and my only thought is “What the hell was I thinking?”
My mind is filled with places I want to visit, people I could meet, events and people I’m going to miss, and a whole mountain of expletives (Hi, mom). It’s such a bittersweet and beautifully scary moment in my life that I get to put into words, but I’ll be amazed to see what words come out. More than likely, it’ll look a lot like this does right now, a 1:30a rant chicken scratched in a journal that I have had for way too many years (which I just realized you can’t see.)
And despite all of this, as I currently read Under the Tuscan Sun for class (yeah, studious), I’m realizing that sometimes the best time of your life begins with a journal, a pen, a leap of dumb ass faith. (Sorry, mom)
So, here’s to my leap of faith and the dreams that are always worth exploring.