Today the tears don’t stop. I am packing my things to move to my next apartment and I as I collect my belongings I think of everything I have experienced. Even this week. As if my time here could be topped by anything else, I have once again been blown away by people, their kindness and generosity. If I had a dollar for every time I said to myself “If I were to die right now I would die happy” I’d be a millionaire from this year alone. I think about going home and I think that all the possibilities and hopes that this place has for me will disappear. That they are a dream and simply just that. That I will wake up and reality will be there staring me in the face. Reality is what we make it, no? We have that freedom decide what we want from this life and how we conduct ourselves in it. Why can’t I say, “I want to move to Paris and study art and become a photo assistant and meet people and learn french.” Why does that seem so impossible? Life is hard. No choice is easy. It takes hard work, there are set backs, lessons learned. Why are we so afraid of these things? Are we suppose to live life out of fear? Make decisions based on what is safe? There are no guarantees. There is no easy way. I don’t want to live out of fear. No more. Not for me.
