I remember very well how i felt that day. Anxious, afraid, paralysed with the idea of going so far away for the first time. My own mind started bombarding me with questions like; how will you communicate ?, where will you stay?, what will you do?. I was very scared indeed. I have even considered cancelling my flight and staying where I was at the time because I simply couldn’t imagine being somewhere else.
I was talking to many people, pretending that I wasn’t scared. I was acting out a role of a brave traveller who dreamt of this journey for a long time. I was obviously waiting for this adventure but when the time came I simply couldn’t do it.
I went to sleep that night and i was sure that I won't be boarding that plane. I decided to keep on living my life. I decided to stop dreaming.
I woke up at 6.40 am and the first thing that hit me was if i missed my flight. I realised that i wanted it more than i thought. My flight was at noon. I realised that if i won’t catch a train now I will miss my plane. I lived 4 hours away from the airport. I stood up rapidly, rushed towards my wardrobe, got dressed, packed my very small backpack went downstairs and said goodbye to my family. There was sadness, there were tears and there was me standing proud and happy inside because for the very first time I defeated myself. I defeated my fears. I closed the door behind me , looked up to the rising sun and smiled because I had no fucking idea what I was doing.