My relationship with travelling is complicated. In theory is the perfect union. My companion that gives me everything I need and want and everything that I say I need and want. Adventures await. Words open up to uncover my real character. And all is bliss.
In theory.
In practice, it is annoying, stressing, frustrating but still, so exciting. So much to take care of and so much that - to me - can go wrong tend to shadow what could be a great thing. Maybe in the end, is not the travelling, is just me. I am the one who is not making the most out of this amazing escapade.
Taking responsibility is maybe the first step towards happiness.
So today, as I am to embark in the longest journey of my life so far, I like to take in account everything and make a solemn promise that I'll try to stay cool, not panic and not give in to fears. How come that so many of my decisions are influenced by fear?
So without going overboard, I shall try to be less about protecting and more about experiencing and discovering. I am not above to admit that maybe, fearful is my very nature and that in itself can be a discovery but maybe there's a little more beyond that.
As I talked about this with a friend I said something that - like many things I say - I thought it was funny but in reality is just sad:
The only moment I can really enjoy a journey is after I'm back home safe.
How's that for a fked up conclusion?