I
peer
out
t
he window into
a dark
landscape
dusted with lights
in the distance
,
the
city of Prague
hovering in front of my finger
s
.
I press my hand against the cold glass and try to connect the dots of the city skyline
.
Traveling gives me this natural high, like all my senses are heightened down to the end of my fingertip
s
.
I crave it like food, as if it’s what propels me forward, what
nourishes
my body
.
Traveling is like leaving
one
world that’s black and white and walking into
another one
drenched in
color because everything is so new
it becomes enchanting
.
T
he train
starts to
s
low down as it
approaches P
rague
’s station,
and
my feet tap anxiously on the ground
.
I can
’t sit still
.
Maybe it’s the air—cold and dense and rich with
mystery and texture
.
Maybe it’s
the sense of this new city
I’m about to meet,
like
a stranger I want t
o get to know
.
Maybe it’s the third cup of coffee I’ve had in the last hour
.
It’s amazing to think where adventure can lead when
you
trust your crazy ideas
, w
hen you’re
bold enough to look at only what lies ahead of you
.
I don’t want the normal life
.
I don’t
want to
go to
college
because it’s the next practical
step
, just to join the pack,
just to follow a leader
.
I don’t want to sit inside a room
under
fluorescent lights and study and read and
memorize
other people’s ideas about the world
.
I want to form my own ideas
.
I want to experience
the world
with my o
wn eyes
.
I’m not going to follow my old friends
to avoid
the effort of m
aking
new ones
.
I don’t want to settle for a
ny
job just to get a paycheck, just to pay rent, just to need furniture and cable and more bills and be tied down with routine and monotony
.
I don’t want to own things because they’ll eventually start to own me
.
Most importantly,
I don’t want to be told who I am
or who I should be
.
I want to find myself—
the bits and pieces that are scattered in places and in people
waiting to meet me
.
If I fall down, I’ll learn how to pick myself up
again
.
You need to fall apart once in a while before you understand how you
best
fit together
.
Few
people understand
what to make of me
.
Except for one
.
The more people I meet
, the more I’m realizing
how rare it
is
to
find
someone who lets you be yoursel
f
.
Who
n
ever
tries to
hold
you
back, but
watches you
ride out the wave of
intensity
and see where
it takes you
.
Gray never held me back
.
He was like a drug
.
H
e lit me up like a catalyst
,
and
I
can
’t go a day without
thinking about him
.
Half of my journal entries are addressed to him
.
I take most of my pictures just so I can show him the places I’ve been
.
I’ve never missed
anyone before
.
I
try not to
dwell on
past
memories;
instead I
focus on making new ones
.
But
now I realize that
distance is like a
test
.
If you m
iss someone, it means you love him
.
It’s that simple
.
I can’t wait to see him again and tell him our story is just beginning
.
Growing
.
Destined for happily ever after.
I
lean my forehead against the
cool
train window
and
watch the city lights blink
past me in the
dark sky
.
My shoulders rock forward as the train
grinds and
b
rake
s to a stop
.
I
stretch my sore legs and
roll my luggage into a filthy train
station, but I’m filthy
too,
so I can’t complain
.
I
grin at the
atmosphere
around me
,
the cla
ttering sounds of languages I can’t understand,
the bustle of passengers,
people moving along with me like we’re all just cells, pushing our way togethe
r through a giant artery
.
I love meeting a city for the first time at night and seeing
it
dr
essed up with lights
.
It gives m
e time to imagine the rest of
it
before
it greets me
in daylight
.
I
head towards the
street entrance,
hail a cab
,
and find myself on a cobblestone street in front of t
he Czech Inn Hostel
.
E
ven though we meet for the first time
and I’m thousands of miles from anyone I know
, I feel like I’m home
.
GRAY
I wake up
the next
morning
to the sound of birds that
have unfortunately chosen
the
balcon
y
outside my door
for music
rehearsal
.
Their
soprano
voices
perform
a
song
I
imagine
is
titled, “Let’s
Annoy the Shit o
ut of Gray
.”
While they
chirp
and sing and whistle
to
the
world
,
I roll over on my back and let out a long sigh
.
I’ve
officially
decided
fish are my favorite animal
because they
’re quiet and don’t a
rouse me from
a rare sleep
.
The sun p
eer
s
through
the window
blinds
and paint
s
narrow streaks of yellow light
across
my bed
.
I
stare up at the ceiling,
rub my eyes
and
wish
I could fast forward through
today
.
Since my twin sister Amanda passed away two years ago, my birthday is just
a reminder
that
some
parts of me are only half here
.
Death has a way of breaking you
into pieces
.
Y
ou
manage to
put yourself back together, but in an odd alignment
.
Something will always feel off
-
center.