Ever since returning from Italy, it’s as if something in me has simply snapped. Something in me has changed. Italy opened up my eyes to a whole new world, a new culture, a new way of life. I view the world in a completely different light than I did two years ago. Point in case, you cannot do a trip like that and expect to come back the same person that you were when you left. Honestly, I can barely remember who I was when I left. It seems so long ago, and yet, it wasn’t. It was only a year ago. Only a year. Italy changed me for the better. It breathed life back into my soul, in spite of me being, at the time, involved in a relationship with a narcissistic man–(I’m still slightly bitter about that, and I wish nothing but terrible things his way…as I have always learned, Karma is a bitch and he will get his one day…sooner rather than later would be ideal for me).
I have reached the resolution that I will always be a nomad. I will never quite be comfortable working a 9 to 5 job. I am at war with myself. It’s a constant battle inside. But then I try to remind myself that when I am on my deathbed one day, I will regret far more, the things I didn’t do, rather than the things I did.
In the past four years alone, I have already taken so many risks and done things that I truly wanted to do and experience, from horseback riding, and swimming with a dolphin, to ziplining, parasailing and white river rafting. I’m just thinking that I should not have bunched them so close together. What’s left now? Bungee jumping? Ice-fishing? Sky diving? Scaling the CN Tower?
I am still split between the norm and dancing to the beat of my own drums.
I am already saving and planning for my next big adventure; whether it is taking seasonal jobs here and there or teaching English in Thailand or learning how to do yoga and teach yoga and meditate from an Ashram in India.
Like one direction says, “let’s make the most of the night like we’re gonna die young.”