Last Night In Canada

I'm doing it again. 

I'm taking off. I'm hopping on a plane and hoping for the best. 

This time, I'm leaping into the unknown not into a structured pool of chaos like Belgium, but to a festering disorganised mess of my own life. It'll be me, on my own, in my own stream of nonsense, except in Australia. 

Last steps in Canada. 

I've got a fifty eight litre backpack, my passport, twenty two hundred CAD, a one way ticket to Sydney International Airport, and six days booked in a hostel. 

What could go wrong?

No, but in all honesty, I'm setting off on an adventure. I didn't want to go to university right out of high school. I just didn't want to. I think I was suffering from education fatigue and I was terrified beyond belief that going to university right away would make me pollute that environment with my exhaustion. I didn't want to go, and if you don't want to go somewhere that isn't obligatory and that costs your parents lots of money, don't go. 

Luckily, my parents agreed. I worked jobs over the summer and I'm off tomorrow at eighteen hundred hours. I've financed the trip completely on my own, with the exception of two Christmas presents: a gorgeous phone from my father, and my beautiful backpacker's backpack from my mother. 

But I'm an optimist. No matter how worried and anxious I feel right now, I'm still gonna go. I'm still getting on that plane. I think no matter what, at the end of this trip, I'll be glad I did it. I'll be glad I went. It'll work out, I'll learn, I'll grow, and eventually I'll come home. 

In the air. Too late to change your mind.